


blood is rare, sweet as cherry wine

by okamiwind



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Breeding, Chastity Device, Collars, Comeplay, Degradation, Dirty Talk, Face-Fucking, Gags, Heavy BDSM, M/M, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Pet Play, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Punishment, Rope Bondage, Sex Toys, Slapping, Spanking, Temperature Play, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:42:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21976795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/okamiwind/pseuds/okamiwind
Summary: Chanyeol asked for a weekend.He gets one that feels like a lifetime.
Relationships: Kim Jongin | Kai/Park Chanyeol
Comments: 70
Kudos: 241





	blood is rare, sweet as cherry wine

**Author's Note:**

> check the tags, please don't read if these types of things trigger u!

He is to abstain from orgasm for the thirty days leading up to that night. He is to come wearing a plain outfit, preferably a black hoodie and black sweatpants. He is to arrive already wearing the CB-6000 chastity device for a minimum of three hours. He is to arrive clean and well-washed. After his enemas, he is to insert the Lovense Hush. He is to refrain from touching himself until he is told he is allowed. 

He is to bring _nothing with him_ : no bag, no phone, no wallet, no keys. Only his clothes and what lies beneath. 

Chanyeol loves rules. 

He doesn’t know much about what they’ll be doing or where, a blindfold already draped over his eyes. His stomach turns with excitement as he makes sure the house is spotless, just in case. He didn’t need to worry, though. Jongin texts him at noon, tells him to be ready and waiting outside at 5:30.

 _Don’t be late_ , Jongin writes. But Chanyeol’s been waiting for this. He wouldn’t miss it for the world. 

Chanyeol doesn’t start getting ready until late afternoon. Even slipping his cock into the polycarbonate device makes him stiffen up a little bit with anticipation, but he intends to be good, so he ignores the thrill of arousal that threatens at his seams, locks his cock away for the evening. He finds it difficult to focus on anything, what with the plug inserted and his cock caged in plastic, but he makes do, finishes up the minuscule tasks he has left. It’s always easier to work when you have something good waiting for you as a reward. 

When he steps outside at 5:30, the car is waiting for him. He blinks, eyes already a little wet, and he opens the door. 

“Um, hi,” Chanyeol says, ducking his head as he steps in, shutting the door behind him. The driver doesn’t answer. 

After that, Chanyeol doesn’t offer any further conversation. From now on, he figures, he speaks when spoken to. 

They drive for the better part of an hour, and Chanyeol nearly nods off after a while, already slipping into the fantasy as his head rests against the glass of the window, but he is stirred immediately when he feels the plug’s vibrations start. 

He makes a wounded noise that he quickly quiets, and the driver doesn’t even flinch. Chanyeol swallows the rest of his sounds, realizing how much worse it could be. They’ve used this plug before, and he knows the settings. This is low. 

Still, he is furiously hot, burning from the chest up, and while he pulls at the neck of his sweatshirt, he rocks his hips back and forth as subtly as he can manage, pushing the plug a little deeper inside. The trills of vibrations are delicious, terrible, _wonderful_. 

He squeezes his eyes shut tight, feels his cock desperately try to harden at the attention. It’s been two weeks since they touched. Jongin said he didn’t want to tempt him any more, and in a way, Chanyeol is glad for that. Before that, it had been two difficult weeks, Jongin dragging him to the edge before denying him entirely. Of course, it’s what Chanyeol wanted, it’s what Chanyeol asked for, it’s what Chanyeol _begged_ for, but still… it was challenging. 

The drive seems to stretch on forever, but thankfully, the vibrations go away after a minute, and he can focus on the trees passing by. He doesn’t recognize the area at all anymore, and if Chanyeol didn’t trust Jongin implicitly, he would be scared. But he _does_ trust Jongin implicitly, trusts him with everything that he has, and that’s why they can play like this. 

He shuts his eyes, overwhelmed with emotion, and that is when the stronger vibrations set in, making him huff out a wet sob into the fabric of his sweatshirt. It is impossible to think about anything besides Jongin, Jongin’s smile, Jongin’s body, Jongin’s laugh, the way Jongin kisses up and down Chanyeol’s body, the way Jongin tells Chanyeol that he’s a good slut, tells him to get on his knees. Jongin is synonymous with pleasure of all kinds, and whenever Chanyeol is feeling good, he thinks of Jongin, can’t _stop_ thinking of Jongin. He licks his lips, thinks about what’s in store, what other surprises Jongin has planned, and he— 

“We’ve arrived,” the driver says, and immediately, without another breath, the vibrations cease. 

Tears in his eyes, Chanyeol thanks the driver. 

His legs are a little wobbly as he gets out of the car and shuts the door. The car pulls away as soon as it can, and then, Chanyeol is alone as he stares up at the immense house in the middle of nowhere. He looks around. They are hidden by a dense forest, and Chanyeol sucks in a breath as he stares up at the sky. It’s dark already, and the night is growing cold. The feeling of the wind against his face is sobering, but he assumes that sobriety won’t last for long. 

There is a car in the drive, Jongin’s car, and seeing it makes Chanyeol’s heartbeat slow from its rabbit-fast pace. Jongin is here, and Jongin will care for him. Jongin thought of everything. Chanyeol only needs to give himself. 

He climbs the stairs, the wood creaking underfoot, and as soon as he’s reached the landing, the grand double doors open, and Jongin is standing there, a smile on his face. He is wearing a white button down, dark navy dress pants, a brown leather belt with a square silver buckle. Chanyeol stares down at his feet, bare. Comfortable. Chanyeol already wants to get on the ground, kiss and lick at his toes. 

He chances a look up into Jongin’s eyes. Beautiful, molten. God, Chanyeol is in love with him. 

“I’ve missed you,” Jongin says, and he pulls Chanyeol into an embrace, a hand warm on Chanyeol’s back. “How was your ride?” 

“E-Eventful,” Chanyeol says, and he buries himself into Jongin, makes himself as small as he possibly can. “Thank you.” 

Jongin makes a cute shushing noise, pulls Chanyeol by the hand into the home. Chanyeol cannot stop from looking around, studying the interior. He’s never seen this place before, wonders if Jongin rented it just for this. It is beautiful, full of plants and flowers, and it looks well cared for. There is a living room, a fireplace roaring, and he slips out of his shoes as he peeks around the corner, trying to spy. He pads barefoot across the hardwood floor, led by Jongin. They walk through the hall into the kitchen, white tile and grey granite, and Chanyeol inhales deeply. It smells warmly of ginger, sesame, and soy, and Chanyeol breathes out as Jongin squeezes his hand. 

Jongin moves deliberately as he presses Chanyeol back to rest against the counter, and when he takes Chanyeol’s face in his hands, he brings their mouths together slowly as if to savor the moment when their lips first touch. Chanyeol moans out at the affection, opens himself up as Jongin kisses him lushly, licking into his mouth. Jongin’s hands slide easily down Chanyeol’s neck, circle his body to hold him by the small of his back. Chanyeol arches his body into Jongin’s, lets him feel the cage. _I did what you told me to do,_ he thinks, kissing Jongin as best he can. _I’ll always do what you tell me._

“Dinner first, okay?” Jongin says, and he leads them both to the table, sits Chanyeol down with a kiss to his cheek. 

It is more or less what Chanyeol expected, soft and sweet, just like Jongin. He tries, tries for Chanyeol, and that’s why Chanyeol loves it so much. The effort is clearly there. He feels like a pampered kept boy when Jongin pours his glass full of red wine, when Jongin hooks his ankle around Chanyeol’s when they begin to eat. He flakes off a piece of his salmon, drenched in the amber-colored honey ginger glaze. 

He looks into Jongin’s eyes as he lifts his fork to his mouth, and Jongin’s eyes go to his throat when he swallows. The tension is thick, delicious, and Chanyeol smirks as he takes another bite. Chanyeol doesn’t mind playing like this, of course. It is plenty for him. 

“It’ll start,” Jongin assures him, “after. I just wanted to see you. Get you acclimated to things.” He gestures around. “Different setting.” He looks into Chanyeol’s eyes. “I want you to be comfortable. I want you to feel safe.” 

“I always feel safe with you,” Chanyeol says, and it is the truth, but Jongin makes a face. 

“Don’t just say it,” Jongin says. 

“I’d never just say it. I know how much it means to you.” 

“Okay,” Jongin says, and he reaches across the table, laces his fingers through Chanyeol’s to give his hand a squeeze. 

Jongin is good that way, always makes sure. Checks and double-checks. Just once, though, Chanyeol wishes that he wouldn’t. _Just use me_ , he dreams. _Use me up until I don’t have anything left to give._

“Okay,” Chanyeol says, and he takes a sip of his wine, licks his bottom lip before tugging it into his mouth. “Same word?” 

“Same word,” Jongin says, and then, without warning, the strongest vibrations zip through Chanyeol’s body, making him cry out. He slams his hand down onto the table as he rocks his hips back, making the plug shift inside him, and he moans loudly, wantonly. He looks up at Jongin. He has his brows raised. “Quiet, please.” 

Chanyeol shuts his fucking mouth, withdraws his hand from the tabletop before placing it delicately in his lap. The plug hums on, furiously buzzing inside him, and Chanyeol breathes harshly through his nose. 

“Eat,” Jongin smiles. “It’s good, isn’t it?” 

“Y-Yes,” Chanyeol says, already being unspooled. “Yes, very good.” 

“Don’t want it to get cold,” Jongin says, and he nods towards Chanyeol’s plate. He looks down for a moment, playing with his phone, and the vibrations begin to shift to a rhythm. Slow and sweet and soft and then torturously hard and fast, the sound evident in the quiet. Chanyeol bites his lip as he pleads with his eyes, but all Jongin does is tuck his phone neatly back into his pocket, smiling at Chanyeol. “Eat. And that’s the last time I’ll ask nicely.” 

Chanyeol picks his fork back up with shaking hands, and he tries not to moan as he opens his mouth to take another bite. It is delicious, but it is hard to focus on anything besides the vibrations thrumming inside him, besides the way his cock pushes at the plastic of his cage. He swallows dutifully, fingers tight around his utensil. 

“There’s a good boy,” Jongin praises. “Do you like it?” 

“Yes. I like it.” 

“Sir,” Jongin prompts. 

“Yes, I like it, sir,” Chanyeol corrects. 

Jongin’s smile widens. “Don’t forget, okay? If you forget, that’s a punishment.” 

The word sticks in Chanyeol’s mind, delectable. He already knows that he’ll forget on purpose simply to get himself a taste. 

“Yes, sir,” Chanyeol says, and he rolls his hips as he rides the plug, tries to finish his plate as soon as he can. He’s dripping with anticipation already, and he wants to get to it already, wants to fall onto his knees. 

Jongin watches him like a fucking hawk as they eat, and the dinner proceeds in near silence, only shattered when the rhythm and speed of the plug suddenly shifts, making Chanyeol sigh or stifle a moan. Jongin observes carefully like he’s waiting for Chanyeol to disobey, to scream out, but Chanyeol is made for rougher stuff. If he couldn’t handle this, he isn’t sure that he’d ask for something so much more… dramatic. 

Only once Chanyeol’s plate is clean do the vibrations cease, and his whole body feels hyper-sensitive, the reverberations still running through him. A shiver runs down his spine, but he closes his eyes, swallows over it. 

“Did you enjoy?” Jongin asks, and he stands, takes Chanyeol’s plate and glass along with his own, hips tilting side to side as he deposits them in the sink. He turns back, leaning against the countertop with a coy smirk, arms folded across his chest. “Hm?” 

“Yes, sir,” Chanyeol answers. “Thank you, sir.” 

“That’s good to hear.” His stare goes hard, cold. “Come.” 

Immediately, Chanyeol stands, and as he moves, he is reminded again of how full he is, held open and ready. He walks over to Jongin, stands before him. 

“Sir,” Chanyeol answers. 

“Knees, please,” Jongin smiles, and Chanyeol falls easily to the floor, knees making a soft _thunk_ as he lands. Instinctively, he presents himself for inspection, hands behind his head, knees spread wide, eyes downcast. “Oh. Ready to submit, are we?” 

“Yes, sir. Always to you, sir.” 

“Look at me.” Chanyeol looks up. Jongin’s smile is sweet. “We’ll see about that.” He juts out his jaw, and he clenches his teeth hard enough for Chanyeol to see the line shift on his face. “Hands and knees. Eyes on me.” 

Chanyeol scoots back, places his hands on the floor, chin tilted up uncomfortably so he can look Jongin in the eye. 

“Good,” Jongin says, rudimentary praise, but his voice is rough, and for a moment, Chanyeol feels himself slipping under. “Follow.” 

Chanyeol swallows thickly as Jongin passes him, and Chanyeol scrambles to keep up, hurrying along back through the kitchen and the hall on his hands and knees. Usually, he has a pillow or knee pads if he’ll be kneeling for an extended period of time. Now, he feels everything. It’s easy to ignore the slight discomfort of crawling along hardwood because every time he shifts his hips, the plug moves inside him. It is torturously good, and Chanyeol makes a soft noise as it gets harder and harder to keep his eyes open, not from exhaustion, but from pleasure. 

Jongin turns, leads him back to the living room where the fire paints him in amber and red. The black leather couch is long, and it’s draped with soft-looking throw blankets and pillows. It is the picture of luxury. 

Chanyeol waits at Jongin’s feet as he sits in the middle, a white gift box tied with a large red bow next to him. 

“ _Adoration_ ,” Jongin calls, and Chanyeol immediately brings himself to the position. 

Still on his knees, he rests his forehead on the floor, moving his hands to wrap carefully around Jongin’s left foot. 

“Master,” Chanyeol moans, and he presses a delicate kiss to Jongin’s ankle before chasing it with his tongue. “Master, I love you. Master, you are beautiful. Master, you’re—” 

“Quiet.” Chanyeol obeys, instead using his mouth to kiss and suck at the skin of Jongin’s foot as Jongin speaks. “I’ve gotten you a gift.” 

“Thank you, sir.” He mouths at Jongin’s foot, closes his eyes, thinks about all the ways Jongin spoils him. “I’m not worthy of your love, sir.” 

“Kneel,” Jongin says, and Chanyeol immediately moves again, hands behind his back and crossed at the wrists. He does not look into Jongin’s eyes until Jongin tells him so. “Eyes on me.” And he looks up, sees Jongin looking down at him possessively, like he is a piece of furniture to be owned and moved as Jongin sees fit. “Would you like to see it?” 

“Yes, sir,” Chanyeol says. 

“Ask nicely.” 

“Please, sir,” Chanyeol begs. “Please, let me see it, sir. I want to see it so badly, sir.” 

Jongin takes the box in his hands, pulls one end of the red ribbon until it falls away uselessly, decoration on the floor. He lifts the lid, places it beside him, and then tilts the box down so that Chanyeol can see what rests inside. 

A light blue patent leather collar, shiny and new. There is an O-ring at the front, a traditional buckle at the back, and there is a word embossed across it, two letters on either side of where the lead would attach. 

_BABY_

“Do you like it?” Jongin asks.

“Y-Yes, sir,” Chanyeol says, overwhelmed at the sight, the thought, the gesture of it. “Thank you, sir.” Tears rimming his eyes, he looks up at Jongin, smiles as he huffs out a breath. “ _Thank you._ ” 

“Ah,” Jongin smiles, and he brushes the back of his knuckles against the side of Chanyeol’s face. “You’re so pretty when you cry.” 

Chanyeol squeezes his eyes shut as he laughs, a tear rolling down his cheek. “Thank you, sir.” He looks back to the collar, and he can already imagine it tight against his skin. An intoxicating feeling. “M—May I wear it, sir?” 

The smile on Jongin’s face fades, wiped away. 

“This?” he asks, and he picks up the collar, dangling it in front of Chanyeol’s face, taunting him. “You want this?” 

“Yes, sir,” Chanyeol says. “Please, sir.” 

“If you want it, then I think you ought to earn it,” Jongin says. “Go upstairs, go to the bedroom, and go to _Present_.” 

“Yes, sir.” Chanyeol rises as gracefully as he can manage from the kneeling position, hurrying off through the house before realizing he didn’t check. He turns back, hands twisting nervously in front of him as he goes back to the living room. He keeps his eyes low as he asks. “O-On the bed, sir?” 

Jongin smirks. 

“What do you think, you dumb slut?” 

Warmth blooms on Chanyeol’s cheeks. 

“Whatever sir wants,” he answers. 

“On the bed,” Jongin says. “Now go. Before I put you over my knee.” 

Chanyeol turns, face flaming now, and he goes to the stairs. He climbs. He wants to take them two at a time, but he’s so loose now that he thinks the plug might slip out. He looks through the halls, studying the closed doors before he heads to the back, finds the master bedroom. Opening the door, he begins to strip as soon as he crosses the threshold, pulling his sweatshirt up over his head before turning, looking for a tucked away place to put it after he’s folded it neatly. 

Behind him, he finds a dresser, so he peeks in a drawer and when he finds it empty, he deposits his sweatshirt. He looks into the mirror on the wall. Looking at his reflection, he can see his heartbeat at his neck. The collar would cover that. He’s never wanted anything more in his fucking life. 

Turning, he takes a quick moment to familiarize himself with his surroundings. The walls are light grey, the baseboards clean white. The bed is large, a king, maybe a California king. The linens are white. There is a bench at the foot of the bed that is tufted and plush, charcoal grey. There is a small black briefcase resting on the bench, the latch silver. Chanyeol wonders what’s inside as he shucks his sweatpants down, folds them up, and deposits them along with the sweatshirt. 

He gets up on the bed, assumes the _Present_ position. He lies flat on his back, and looking down, he checks the cock cage. It is still securely fashioned. He spreads his legs as he reaches between his legs, ensuring that the plug is fully seated. He pinches his nipples, gets them hard, and finally, he brushes his hair back out of his face. Jongin likes to see his face. 

He puts his hands behind his head, spreads his legs as wide as they’ll go, and he arches his back, pushing his chest up into the air as he points his toes. He closes his eyes, and then, he waits. 

And Jongin keeps him waiting. 

Chanyeol loses sense of time as he lies there, presenting himself, and he tries to keep himself focused, tries not to lose sight of what his purpose is. He is here to earn something. He is here to please. To serve. 

But he is a selfish slut. He wonders what’s in the briefcase. They’ve got plenty of toys. Jongin could have his pick. Clamps, paddles, ropes, rings, dildos, vibrators, sleeves… Chanyeol can only dream. _Take me and use me, ride me hard and put me away wet._

When the door cracks open, Chanyeol sucks in a breath, his body rigid and tight as he holds himself as still as humanly possible. Jongin’s footsteps are swallowed by the carpet, but occasionally, the floor will creak. Chanyeol barely resists the urge to open his eyes. He wants to be good. He’ll be good for Jongin. He wants that fucking collar. He’ll get it if it’s the last thing he does. 

“When’s the last time you came?” Jongin asks, and suddenly, he trails a finger along the instep of Chanyeol’s left foot. 

“A-A month ago, sir,” Chanyeol says, voice threadbare. 

“Mm.” The finger moves, pets along the top of Chanyeol’s foot, making Chanyeol tremble with effort to keep his toes pointed nicely. “Pretty slut.” 

Chanyeol nearly moans, eager for the praise, but he swallows it. “Thank you, sir.” 

“Open your eyes,” Jongin orders, and Chanyeol obeys. The lights have dimmed. It looks like midnight. Soft. Sweet. “Kneel.” 

Chanyeol attempts to look graceful as he shifts from present to kneel, wrists crossed behind his back, knees cushioned by the mattress. He does not look in Jongin’s eyes though he wants to. It isn’t about what he wants, he reminds himself. 

That’s a contradiction, of course. They’re here specifically because it’s what he wants. _He_ wants to give Jongin total control. _He_ wants to be helpless. _He_ wants these things. They’re _his_ fantasies. 

“Look at me.” 

Chanyeol looks up, lets himself feast on the sight of him. He has the sleeves of his shirt rolled to the elbow. His lips are red. His eyes are… _God_ , his eyes. 

“What do you want?” Jongin asks. 

“W-Whatever pleases you, sir,” Chanyeol answers. 

“Good answer.” He nods down to the briefcase. “Open it.” 

Chanyeol does not wait, moves across the bed until he’s able to grab the briefcase and flip it open. Inside, there are several bundles of black rope that look particularly striking against the white silk lining of the case. _Kinbaku_ , Chanyeol thinks, and his stomach begins to turn. 

“I’m gonna use you,” Jongin says, “and I’m not gonna stop unless you say the word.” He looks into Chanyeol’s eyes, into his fucking soul. “Do you understand?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“You wanna be mine?” 

Jongin turns, looks over to the dresser, and Chanyeol notices that the collar is sitting there across from them. Staring back at them. 

“Yes, sir,” Chanyeol says, eyes on the prize. “Yes, sir. I’ve never wanted anything more.” 

“Let’s see if you really mean it,” Jongin says. He leans forward, and with an open palm, he slaps Chanyeol across the face. Chanyeol moans, a little shocked that Jongin just hit him, and the heat floods through his groin. “Do you like that? Being hit?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Painslut,” Jongin whispers. 

“Yes, sir,” Chanyeol whispers back. 

“You get off for anyone who treats you rough?” He buries his hand in Chanyeol’s hair, palm flat before he grabs a fistful, drags him over so that he is gasping, mouth open just a breath away from Jongin’s. “Would you come for anyone who spanked you?” 

“No, sir,” Chanyeol whines. “No, sir, I wouldn’t.” 

“But you’re a slut, and that’s what sluts do,” Jongin simpers. “They spread their legs, and they take what they’re given.” 

Chanyeol whimpers as he opens his mouth for a kiss, and Jongin gets close, mouth open and hovering near Chanyeol’s. _Oh,_ he thinks, _I would love just one kiss. Please, just one._

But it isn’t about what he wants. 

Jongin spits into his mouth, and Chanyeol holds it on his tongue until Jongin says, “Swallow.” 

Chanyeol does as he’s told, and after he’s finished, he opens his mouth wide, tongue sticking out as if to say _See, all gone._ Jongin looks at him blankly, pats Chanyeol’s cheek a little more roughly than he normally would, and points towards the dead center of the bed. 

“On your stomach,” Jongin says. Chanyeol quickly flips over, and his stomach flips as he waits for his next command. “Spread your legs.” 

Chanyeol eagerly obliges, and when he feels Jongin’s touch at the plug, he shivers. 

Slowly, the plug is pulled from his body, and just when it is almost totally withdrawn, it is pushed back in, and Chanyeol squeaks out a moan that he should have been able to quiet. He doesn’t know whether it is Jongin, whether it’s him, whether it’s the combination of the two of them, but it has never felt quite like this. It’s never felt so visceral and real. 

“You like that, huh?” Jongin asks, and he pulls the plug out again, almost completely, before fucking it back in. “Being fucked by silicone?” 

Chanyeol wants to rock his hips back to show Jongin just how much he loves it, but he only moans out his _Yes_ , stays stock still as Jongin toys with him, plays with him, fucks him with the plug before taking it out, tossing it up onto the bed like it’s served its purpose. 

Jongin pulls Chanyeol by the hips until he is nearly half off the bed, and then, Jongin begins to manipulate his body like he has been rigging Chanyeol his entire life rather than just the past couple of weeks. Chanyeol had to beg for some bondage, but that was… that was light shit. That was furry handcuffs. It wasn’t… it wasn’t like this. 

With practiced, steady, _confident_ movement, Jongin bends Chanyeol’s left leg up, his calf touching the back of his thigh, before carefully winding the rope around, looping and knotting until his leg is bound. He repeats the step on the right leg, binds his leg so that his calf is touching his thigh. Chanyeol is spread, spread wide, and the stretch in his limbs is wonderful. Feels achy already. He presses his moan into the covers. 

“This is called a frog tie, in case you were wondering,” Jongin says as he knots and loops, the sensation of the rope sitting flat against Chanyeol’s skin delicious, the heat swimming in his head making him a little delirious. “I’ve been studying. What do you think, baby? Do you think my hard work is paying off?” 

“Yes, sir,” Chanyeol gasps, and he groans, tries to show Jongin his appreciation. “Thank you, sir.” 

“Better not thank me yet,” Jongin says. “Hands behind your back.” 

Chanyeol hurriedly reaches both arms behind his body, resting at the center of his back, and quickly, Jongin grabs them. He begins stringing rope around Chanyeol’s wrists, and it is arousing, only being able to hear and feel Jongin work. It feels incredible, feels _wonderful_ , and by the time Chanyeol feels his cock trying to respond to all the attention, Jongin is tying him off, his wrists totally bound behind his body. If he tried to struggle, he doesn’t know that he would get very far. He tests the binds, finds them strong enough to hold him, and that alone makes his body feel feverish all over. 

“How’s that, hm?” Jongin asks, and Chanyeol can hear him moving, but he can’t see what he’s doing. “You like it like this? All tied up?” 

“Yes, sir,” Chanyeol says, and it shouldn’t get him this hot, shouldn’t have the intense effect that it does. “Yes, sir. I like it, sir.” 

“Here,” Jongin says, and he threads more rope around the bind on Chanyeol’s left thigh, brings it up to his wrists and begins to work, “let’s get you nice and comfortable then, bunny.” 

Chanyeol whines as Jongin begins to tighten the tension, and before long, Chanyeol is well-aware that he will not exactly be _comfortable_ in this binding. He can hardly move as Jongin threads the rope down to the tie along Chanyeol’s right thigh, and then, it is finished. 

As Chanyeol begins to squirm, he hears Jongin step back, the floor creaking underfoot, before Jongin whistles, long and low. 

“Look to your left,” Jongin says. Chanyeol turns his head, and he sees Jongin’s feet on the floor, arches his neck uncomfortably so he can look into Jongin’s eyes. “Hi there.” Jongin steps forward, brushes his fingers against Chanyeol’s cheek until he rests his head on the mattress again. “Good thing you’re so flexible, hm?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

Jongin stares at him like he is meat. “Wanna get fucked?” 

“Yes, sir,” Chanyeol says. “Please, sir.” 

“Mm.” Jongin stands back, and he moves out of Chanyeol’s sight. It makes Chanyeol whimper, the desire swimming in his head. When he feels the warmth of Jongin’s hands on the backs of his thighs, fingers playing across the ropes, he cries out. “What is it, whore? You have something to say?” 

“Nothing, sir,” Chanyeol says. “Sorry, sir.” 

“That’s right, you don’t have anything smart to do with that fucking mouth of yours unless it’s sucking cock, sticking your tongue out before I sit on your face, or asking for a fucking spanking.” 

Chanyeol whines as he buries his face in the covers, the humiliation beginning to do its job, plunging him under the warm surface of the ocean, bringing him down under to where the water is boiling hot and bubbling along his skin. 

He brings a palm down hard on Chanyeol’s ass, and he takes the hit as quietly as he can manage. 

“Ooh,” Jongin says. “You’re so tough. You want it harder? You want more?” 

“Yes, sir,” Chanyeol says, because it’s not enough, it’s _never_ enough. 

He spanks Chanyeol’s ass again, much harder this time around, and it makes Chanyeol recoil as much as the rope will allow. He bites his lip to stop the noise from leaking out, but Chanyeol is immediately surprised when Jongin hits him again, again, pushing his hand into the flesh after the strikes until Chanyeol can feel the fucking heat, feel his skin going red. He tries his level best to keep quiet, but _God_ , after a minute or so of Jongin targeting the same spot each and every time, it spiderwebs pain all through his lower body. 

The moans grow in volume, and they turn to deep grunts with each and every hit. 

“You want another?” Jongin asks, and he pats Chanyeol quickly on the tender spot. “Hm?” 

“ _Yes_ ,” Chanyeol cries, and he quickly amends it, “yes, sir.” 

“Greedy little slut. That’s your one freebie. And I’m not gonna give you another.” And Chanyeol expects another hit, another spank to his ass, but he hears shuffling, movement, and he has no idea what to expect next. “There we go.” 

Chanyeol feels lube drip in thick droplets across the sensitive, hot skin of his ass, and he shivers mightily. Jongin follows it with his hands, rubs it into Chanyeol’s skin, massages the muscle until Chanyeol is trembling, his whole body quaking without Chanyeol’s permission. 

“Feel good?” Jongin asks, and Chanyeol is so blissed out by the sudden affection that he forgets to answer. It earns him a wet slap to the ass, and it is a blinding, blooming pain that zips through him. He yelps helplessly, and it makes Jongin laugh. “Answer me next time, bunny.” 

“Yes, sir,” Chanyeol whimpers. “Sorry, sir.” 

“I’m sure you are,” Jongin says, and he returns to his gentle massage, voice mirroring the movement of his hands, soft, sweet. “Ah. Look at you. You’re all wet, slut.”

Chanyeol arches his back as much as the binds will allow, and he whines high in his throat as Jongin plays with him, slipping through the slick. It runs down the crack of his ass, and he moans as the tips of Jongin’s fingers slide through it. He rubs insistently, and Chanyeol feels himself flutter open at the sensation as if he’s begging Jongin to come inside. 

“Shit, you want it that bad?” Jongin teases, and he fucks just the tip of a finger inside Chanyeol’s ass. “Look at that. Fucking whore. I don’t even need to prep you. You come ready for dick, don’t you?” 

“Yes, sir,” Chanyeol whines. 

Still, Jongin presses his slick finger in and down, petting against Chanyeol’s prostate. It is an electric, bright pleasure that swarms over him, captures and keeps him, and Chanyeol cries out as Jongin begins to rub insistently at it, a torture all its own. 

“Look at this,” Jongin asks, and his other hand comes between Chanyeol’s spread legs, bats the cage back and forth, makes Chanyeol squeak out another sound. “ _You wanna get hard, don’t you?_ ” 

Chanyeol bites his lip hard, nearly draws blood as Jongin pushes a second finger in, rubbing like he’s trying to milk Chanyeol dry. 

“Think you could come like this?” Jongin asks. “Come untouched with your little cock in its cage?” 

“Yes, sir,” Chanyeol says, and his chest thunders, back arched painfully. He is totally exposed, totally at Jongin’s mercy, and it is lovely, being torn apart like this. “Yes, sir, please make me come.” 

Jongin fucks him with a third finger, another unnecessary addition, but for a beautiful second, Chanyeol thinks that maybe he’s convinced him. He thought it would be harder, thought Jongin would make it a little bit more difficult for him considering this newfound attitude he’s donned for the occasion, but Chanyeol can’t help but be grateful. He’s been waiting for fucking weeks for this moment, the first taste of the highest highs of pleasure in so fucking long. 

Chanyeol feels his cock leak as Jongin rubs circles at his prostate, and he yelps out a fractured moan when Jongin’s free hand lands another smack to his ass. He jolts, his face pressed harder into the covers, and he is shaking, so close to falling off the edge. He cries out Jongin’s name, and Jongin stills his fingers for a moment. Suddenly, he is reminded of his bondage; the pain of the hogtie begins to pulse through him. He wants to scream, wants to live and die in the moment of sharp pleasure-pain. 

“You gonna come?” Jongin asks, moves his fingers again, and he is goading Chanyeol, dragging him forward as he milks, his other hand rubbing against Chanyeol’s balls. “You wanna come for me?” 

“Yes, sir. _Please_ , sir,” Chanyeol says, and he squirms, the warmth dripping down his spine and settling hot in his groin as he feels himself about to pulse out in weak little waves, and even a ruined orgasm is an orgasm. “Please, make me come, sir. Make me come.” 

He is just about to fall, and he should have known better. He really should have. 

Jongin sharply withdraws his touch, and he lays another spank onto the fullest part of Chanyeol’s ass. The bright lance of pain is almost enough to push Chanyeol forward, almost, _almost_ , but instead, Chanyeol is helplessly teetering on the edge, simultaneously over- and under-stimulated. Desperate for touching but reviled by it. 

“Did you think it was gonna be that easy?” Jongin asks, and Chanyeol can hear the zipper of his pants, and he moans brokenly. “Did you actually think you were gonna get to come before me? Like always?” Chanyeol whimpers, and when he feels Jongin’s cock hard and wet against his ass, he tries to move against it. “Desperate little whore, aren’t you?” 

“ _Yes, sir_ ,” Chanyeol says, voice cracking. “Yes, sir, please, I want your cock.” 

“Why should I give it to you, hm?” 

“Because I want it so bad, sir,” Chanyeol says. “Please, I want your cock inside me.” 

“This?” He moves his hips against Chanyeol’s body, cock insistent. “Hm?” 

“Yes, sir,” Chanyeol says. “Please, sir. Use me for your pleasure, sir.” 

Jongin makes a sound, and Chanyeol tries to discern the meaning. Is he happy with the answer? Was it the wrong thing to say? Chanyeol isn’t sure, only knows the distinct, unmistakable drop into the under. He is an object for pleasure, and he is here to serve. 

Jongin’s hands come to rest gently on Chanyeol’s hips, and the sensation that spiders out is hot and red. Chanyeol moans his appreciation for the touch of affection, but Jongin’s hold tightens, and without further warning, Jongin pushes his cock into Chanyeol, fucks in and in and in until he is balls deep. A groan leaps from Chanyeol’s chest to his mouth, and he spits it to the covers. 

“Feel that, slut?” Jongin whispers, and the material of Jongin’s pants rubs roughly against Chanyeol’s skin. “Huh?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“You like that?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Say it.” 

“I like it, sir,” Chanyeol says. “I like your cock.” 

“Like or love?” 

“Love,” Chanyeol whimpers. “ _Love_.” 

“Tell me how much,” Jongin says. “Tell me how much you wanna be fucked by my cock.” 

“I wanna choke on it, sir,” Chanyeol says, and his body is burning up, everything pouring out of him now that Jongin is inside him. “I want you to fuck me so deep, sir.” 

Jongin pulls him back by the rope wrapping his wrists, and Chanyeol yelps in pain, the tension drawn to eleven, twelve as Jongin fucks him hard, harder. Chanyeol loses himself in the repetitive pleasure, and his skin feels like it’s on fire as Jongin fucks him, the most delicious sounds pouring out as Chanyeol tightens around him. Each little tremor of pain makes him tense, makes Jongin drip another moan onto his back. 

“You feel so good,” Jongin says, and the praise makes Chanyeol moan brokenly, face warm in the covers. “You like it?” 

“I like it,” Chanyeol whispers, his whole body shaking with effort. “I like it.” 

He is drowning in the feeling, surrounded and covered with Jongin, and he blinks slow as Jongin fucks him, the sheer force of his thrusts pushing Chanyeol further and further up the bed. 

“I’ve been thinking about this all month,” Jongin says. “I haven’t thought about anything else except having you here. Fucking totally helpless. Dripping wet and begging for my cock.” 

Chanyeol opens his mouth, the groan coming out fiercer and louder than he meant it. 

“You just wanna be full,” Jongin says, and he manages to keep his voice steady and unaffected even as he fucks Chanyeol hard, harder, the sounds of their bodies loud in the bedroom. “You just wanna be pumped full of come. Fucking covered in it. Drenched in it.” 

“Yes,” Chanyeol says, and the word comes out hiccuped and whiny. “Yes, please, sir.” 

“You want me to come inside you?” 

“Yes, sir. Please, sir.” 

“Breed you? Fuck you ‘til you’re pregnant?” 

“ _Yes, sir_ , Chanyeol cries, and the tears stream down his face as his body goes tense and hard, shame sitting on his skin. 

Jongin withdraws sharply, and it leaves Chanyeol wanting more, craving it, _desperate_ for it. It’s been so long since he’s felt Jongin come deep inside him, the warmth pooling and dripping down the backs of his thighs. He wants it. He doesn’t think he’s ever wanted anything as bad as he wants it right now, but Jongin doesn’t push back inside the clutch of Chanyeol’s body. 

“Please,” Chanyeol begs, “please, I want it.” 

“Do you get what you want, or do you get what you’re given?” Jongin asks, and if Chanyeol didn’t know better, he wouldn’t be able to tell that he was waiting at the doorstep of orgasm, near to crossing the threshold. “Answer me.” 

“I get what I’m given,” Chanyeol says. “Please, please, sir.” 

“Beg me to come,” Jongin whispers, and he thrusts his cock through the wet crack of Chanyeol’s ass, taunting him but not slipping inside. “Go on. Beg for my come, you fucking whore.” 

“Please,” Chanyeol begs, “please, I want you to fill me up, sir. I want to be full of your come. I want your come so badly, please, I need it.” 

“Open your hands. Cup them.” 

Chanyeol frantically obeys the command as Jongin spills into his hands, and he whines, whimpers. It feels warm, feels lovely, but he wants it everywhere, wants it covering him. Filling him up. 

Chanyeol lies there uselessly for several quiet moments, and Jongin doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything, just lets the shame begin to eat away at Chanyeol. He is tied up. He is face down on the bed. He’s trying not to spill Jongin’s come. He asked for this. 

“Color?” 

“Y-Yellow,” Chanyeol says, and he moans weakly in pain. 

“What’s wrong, baby?” 

The affection is so lovely that Chanyeol’s lashes flutter as it hits him. He feels Jongin’s hands on him, cradling his hips, and he moans again, this time in satisfaction. 

“M-My back…” 

“Let’s get you a bit more comfortable,” Jongin says, and Chanyeol hears the zipper of Jongin’s pants before he begins to unfasten the ropes. “How’s that?” 

He hadn’t realized _just_ how uncomfortable he was until after the ropes are pulled from his body, thrown to the floor. He moans as he flattens himself out like a big starfish, holding his hands out to the side so he doesn’t get come on the blankets. 

“Much better, sir. Thank you, sir,” Chanyeol says, and he whimpers. Turns his head to look at Jongin, who stands there watching over Chanyeol. “I love you, sir.” 

Jongin smirks, and oh, it isn’t over. They haven’t really broken scene yet. Chanyeol blinks slowly, plunging back under. 

“Get up on your knees,” Jongin says, and he nods at Chanyeol’s hands. “Don’t spill.” 

Chanyeol does his best to get his body beneath him without jostling too much, intently focused on following Jongin’s orders. He doesn’t know what’s next, but that’s what he likes about this so much. The challenge and the mystery. 

He keeps his eyes low as he centers himself on the bed, and he stretches himself up tall as he waits for his next command, using the opportunity to roll out his shoulders, relieving some of the tension. 

“Look at me.” 

Chanyeol looks up. God, Jongin is beautiful. His hair is hanging into his face, and there is the barest hint of sweat on his brow. Chanyeol wants to devour him. Wants to swallow him whole. 

“Get on your back.” 

Chanyeol moves carefully, deliberately. Holds his hands above his body as he lies back onto the pillows. 

“Spread your legs.” 

Chanyeol opens his legs, plants his feet on the bed. 

“Finger yourself,” Jongin says, and Chanyeol makes a noise. “What?” 

“I… I’m—” 

“You’re…?”

“I’ve got…,” and he raises his cupped hands awkwardly, “sir.” 

“You were begging for it earlier,” Jongin says. “You don’t want it inside you anymore?” 

Chanyeol feels like he’s running a fever, feels like with anymore warmth streaking through his blood, he’ll spontaneously combust. 

“Well?” Jongin says. 

“I want it, sir,” Chanyeol says. “I want it.” 

“Then put it in,” Jongin says. “Fuck yourself with my come.” 

Chanyeol whimpers, whines, but he obeys the order, pours the come from both of his hands into just his left. There’s quite a bit, and it’s thicker than usual, white. Chanyeol wonders when Jongin came last. Has he been waiting for this too? Chanyeol simmers, feels the heat stretch all over his groin. He loves Jongin. Loves him too fucking much, it’s going to drown him. 

“Don’t spill it,” Jongin reminds him, and he kneels onto the bed, makes the bed dip with his weight. “Don’t waste it.” 

He puts his hands on Chanyeol’s knees as Chanyeol dips his fingers into the come, working quickly to push it into his body. He moans, looks up at Jongin through his lashes. _Tell me I’m a good boy,_ he thinks. _Tell me how good I look fucking myself for you._

“All of it,” Jongin says, and he pulls Chanyeol’s legs a little wider. “Go on.” 

Chanyeol doesn’t usually feel embarrassed when he does things like this, crawling, gagging on a cock, but… but for some reason, this, the way he gently pushes wet fingerfuls of Jongin’s come into his ass… it makes him want to hide his face. _Don’t watch me do this,_ he thinks. _Don’t watch me get off on something like this._

“Dirty slut,” Jongin smiles, and he scoops two of his fingers across Chanyeol’s cupped palm, through his own come, and he fucks them into Chanyeol. The sound is wet, sloppy, and Chanyeol hums a moan as he turns to the pillow, a finger of his own still buried inside himself. “You take it so well.” 

“T-Thank you, sir,” Chanyeol says, and he looks down, finds that most of it is inside him now, slicking the way so that Jongin’s and Chanyeol’s fingers thrust into him easy. “Thank you for your come, sir.” 

“Good boy,” Jongin praises, and he withdraws his fingers, drags Chanyeol’s fingers out by pulling at his wrist. “Now push it back out so I can push it back in.” Chanyeol’s stomach drops from the sudden twist of arousal, and he makes a sound of disbelief before he can quiet it. He keeps his eyes low, but he can feel Jongin’s gaze drilling holes into him, so after a moment of shocked silence, he looks up through his lashes into Jongin’s eyes. “What, did you think I was gonna take it easy on you?” 

“No, sir.” 

“Do you _want_ me to take it easy on you?” 

“ _No, sir_.” 

“Color?” 

“ _Green_ ,” Chanyeol says. Eager. Desperate. Ready to explode. “Green, green.” 

“Good,” Jongin says. “Cause when I said you were gonna have to earn that collar, I fucking meant it.”  
  


♙

Torturous pleasure clouds his head, and sooner rather than later, he loses track of time. He is deep. Deep, deep, deep.

He lies there on the bed, helpless and caught. Jongin brings him to the edge over and over again, his fingers insistent and hard against Chanyeol’s prostate, and Chanyeol’s arousal threatens the cage. Jongin pushes his fingers up and in, rubbing, milking, and he slaps his open palm over the soft skin of Chanyeol’s inner thighs. Chanyeol squeaks, begs for mercy, but mercy never comes. 

“I’m surprised you haven’t come yet. You’re always so eager,” Jongin says, and when Chanyeol opens his eyes, he wonders if it’s been an hour or longer, fingerfucked to the point of exhaustion. “You want to come?” 

“ _Yes_ , sir.” 

“But you don’t get to,” Jongin says. “You know that, right? I’ve only come once, and I didn’t even do it inside you. That doesn’t seem very fair, does it? To come when I’m not inside you?” 

He eyes Jongin’s slacks, sees a tent in the front. Chanyeol licks his lips, bites them to keep the wave of warmth from spilling over. 

“No, sir,” Chanyeol says. “P-Please—” 

“Please what?” 

“Please, come inside me,” Chanyeol begs, and he spreads his legs a little wider as if to entice Jongin. “Please. Fuck me, sir. Fuck me again.” Jongin huffs, a hint of how Chanyeol is affecting him, and Chanyeol decides to lay it on thick. “Fuck me with your hard cock. Come inside me and fill me up. Fuck me full of your come, sir.” 

Jongin smiles like he’s pleased with the answer, and he gets up off the bed. “You’re a mouthy little bitch, aren’t you?” Chanyeol watches him go, watches him go to the bathroom, washing his hands. He waits until further notice. Jongin smiles as he walks back into the room. He turns his back to the bed, begins to strip himself of his clothes. “Fucking needy little cumslut.” 

Chanyeol smiles to himself, dazed, and he stares at the ceiling. 

“No, sir,” Chanyeol says. “No, I—” 

Jongin turns, shirt slightly unbuttoned. Top of his fly undone. He is… he is ravishing. 

“No?” 

Immediately, he recognizes his mistake. Chanyeol scrambles up to his knees, crawls over the bed, tries to entice Jongin over so he can… so he can apologize. So he can keep himself from punishment. 

“I didn’t… I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t mean it like that, I just meant—” 

“Shut up,” Jongin says curtly. “Knees.” 

Chanyeol hurries off the bed, kneels in front of Jongin. He sinks down into a particularly submissive version of the pose, knees spread wide, ass on the ground. He is wet, open. He stares at Jongin’s feet until he is told to look into Jongin’s eyes. 

Chanyeol slowly raises his gaze. _Sorry. Sorry. Sorry._

Jongin stares down at him as he strips himself of his clothes. He is slow about it. Reverent. He unbuttons the rest of his shirt, pulls it from its tuck in his pants. He takes it off, gaze hard against Chanyeol’s as he does it. He pushes his pants down to the floor, gracefully steps from them and his socks. He is left in only his black boxer-briefs, hugging his thighs. He is gorgeous. 

Chanyeol looks down again. He is always taking. Taking so much without giving in return. 

“Look at me,” Jongin says, and he takes Chanyeol by the jaw, moves his head. “Look at every inch of me.” 

His silhouette is excruciatingly beautiful, and the smallness of his waist begs to be touched. If Chanyeol knew he was allowed, he would beg. He would plead with tears in his eyes. _Let me hold you. Let me kiss you. Spit on me, and let me love you in return._

“Whore,” Jongin accuses. “Slut.”

“Yes,” Chanyeol says. “Yes, sir. I am.” 

“Say it.” 

“I’m a whore, sir,” Chanyeol says. “I’m a dirty slut, sir.” 

“Oh, you agree so easily now?” He takes Chanyeol by the jaw, turns his head from side to side like he’s judging a dog show. Just when Chanyeol is thinking that Jongin might roughly raise his lip to examine his gums, Jongin’s hand comes to his throat, tightens. “Losing interest? Don’t wanna fight anymore?”

His eyes roll back in his head at the touch, rough and demanding, and Chanyeol’s stomach rolls with wave after wave of heat. It’s never been like this. Never once. Jongin’s too nice, and Chanyeol always accuses him of taking it easy on him. But this… this isn’t easy. This is serious. Jongin came to play. 

“N-No,” he stutters. “No, I’m sorry, sir. I… I didn’t mean it. I’ll be a good boy. I will. I’m sorry, sir, please, I’m sorry.” 

“Good,” Jongin says, and he stares down at Chanyeol like he’s looking right through him. “Show me how sorry you are.” 

Chanyeol moves quickly, launches forward to tug at the band of Jongin’s underwear, but Jongin takes a step back and Chanyeol realizes he’s made yet another mistake. He bows before Jongin, forehead against the floor. 

“I’m sorry, sir,” Chanyeol says. “I’m sorry, I—” 

“Is that really the only way you know how?” Jongin asks. “Is that the only thing you’re good for? Sucking cock?” 

“Yes, sir,” Chanyeol says. “It’s the only thing I’m good at, sir.” 

Chanyeol waits, soon feels Jongin lifting him back up to a kneeling position. He cradles Chanyeol’s face in his hands, presses a deliciously pure kiss to the center of Chanyeol’s mouth. _Oh_ , Chanyeol thinks, _please, another. Let me earn another._

“Shh. You know that’s not right,” Jongin says softly, and for a moment, it is a split in the facade, some beautiful truth wrapped in sweetness, but then Jongin smirks, runs his hands through Chanyeol’s hair. “You’re also good at riding dick, aren’t you?” Chanyeol whimpers, but he is also quick to nod. “You gonna show me later? How good you are? Gonna ride that cock? Make me come in your ass?” 

“Yes, sir,” Chanyeol agrees. “I’ll be good for you, sir.” 

“Good boy,” Jongin praises, and he scratches his fingernails against Chanyeol’s scalp until Chanyeol’s eyes flutter closed. “Mm, you’re deep in it, aren’t you?” 

“Yes, sir.” And his words are slurred, drunk on the feeling of this warm space, tight like the feeling of Jongin’s arms wrapped around him. “Thank you, sir.” 

“What are you thanking me for, hm? Stupid little baby.” 

Chanyeol hums, and he enjoys the petting, rubs his cheek along the tent in Jongin’s underwear as Jongin strokes his fingers through Chanyeol’s hair. 

“Okay, enough,” Jongin says. “Take it out.” 

Chanyeol eagerly takes Jongin’s cock from his underwear, pulls the elastic band down to under Jongin’s balls. There is a slip of metal, and he realizes that Jongin has a cock ring. When did he put that on? Chanyeol isn’t sure. He’s… he must be more fucked out than he thought. 

He runs his fingers around the ring, circles it before he kisses the head of Jongin’s cock, slurps at it noisily. He loves sucking dick. He moans his appreciation. This is a gift, he realizes. Each and every part of Jongin is a gift, and he’s so lucky, he’s so lucky to have his mouth wrapped around him. He lets saliva pool in his mouth, lets it drip out of his mouth, across his lips. 

“Throat it,” Jongin says, and the domineering confidence in his voice shoots like a spark down Chanyeol’s spine as he swallows over the length of Jongin’s cock, nose pressed to the soft skin of Jongin’s lower abdomen. “Mm.” He takes Chanyeol by the hair, thrusts into Chanyeol’s mouth enough to make him gag. “Do you like the taste of my cock?” 

He doesn’t pull out to allow Chanyeol to answer, but he kicks his hips back long enough for Chanyeol to breathe, long enough for Chanyeol to hum his assent around the thickness of Jongin’s dick. Spit drips down his chin, rolls down his neck, and Jongin pushes back in, holds Chanyeol by the skull as he fucks Chanyeol’s mouth with the kind of reckless abandon he’d employ if he was using a toy. Like he’s using Chanyeol like a cock sleeve. 

Lust pools in Chanyeol’s stomach as he gags repeatedly over Jongin’s cock, his mouth and throat making the foulest, dirtiest sounds imaginable, wet, pocketed noises that echo in the otherwise overwhelming quiet. The worst thing is that he can’t even work himself into feeling shame anymore. He’s a perverted slut, and this is what he loves. Loves being used, but used by Jongin alone. 

“I’m gonna come on your face,” Jongin says, and his voice barely betrays him, just a slight unevenness at the tail end, and Chanyeol feels tears pour down his face. “You want it?” Chanyeol tries to hum, tries to speak as Jongin fucks into his mouth hard and fast. All he can do is making gargling sounds as Jongin thunders forward, fucks him until ropes of spit and precome drench his body. “Fucking whore.” 

Chanyeol weeps as Jongin pulls out of his mouth, and he scrambles forward, hands on Jongin’s hips, trying to get another taste. 

“Don’t touch me,” Jongin says. “Hands behind your back, wrists crossed.” 

Chanyeol moves quickly, does as Jongin says and waits for his next instruction, waits for Jongin to reach his climax. Jongin’s eyes glaze over him as he strokes himself, cock wet with Chanyeol’s saliva. 

When Jongin comes, Chanyeol only has a split second to close his eyes before it shoots warm over his face. He breathes out harshly, trying to catch his breath before he sticks out his tongue, lets the come coat his cheeks. 

“Keep your mouth open,” Jongin says, and his voice is rough like sandpaper as he pushes his cock back into Chanyeol’s mouth, pulsing hot. “Don’t swallow it. Keep it in your mouth.” 

Chanyeol obeys, fights like hell to keep himself from acquiescing to the immense urge to swallow as Jongin thrusts shallowly into Chanyeol’s mouth. Jongin shatters through a moan, and that alone makes Chanyeol reach new heights of desperation and desire. He sounds so beautiful, sounds so wonderful, and Chanyeol just wants to push his caged cock against the floor. Wants to rub off on something while staring at Jongin’s face, torn apart by pleasure. 

Jongin pulls his cock from Chanyeol’s mouth, and Chanyeol makes a wet sound, gasping for air as he tries to keep himself from swallowing. Jongin reaches into Chanyeol’s mouth, pulls his fingers through the spit and come. He withdraws, wipes across Chanyeol’s cheek. 

“Good,” Jongin says, rudimentary praise that still sits pretty like sugar in Chanyeol’s mouth. “Open wide.” 

Chanyeol opens his mouth wider, jaw already a little achy from use. 

Jongin leans over him, spits into his mouth. Chanyeol whines, bouncing on his knees with electric arousal. 

“Swallow,” Jongin orders. Chanyeol closes his mouth, swallows it all down. “Open.” 

Chanyeol opens his mouth, head fuzzy, and he sticks out his tongue. 

“Good,” Jongin praises again. “Get on the bed. On your back.” 

Chanyeol goes eagerly, spreads his legs like a fucking dog when he gets there. Jongin stares at him, fists his cock, and Chanyeol licks his lips like he hasn’t gotten enough. And he hasn’t. Not yet. Not ever, maybe. Jongin’s touch is wet as he strokes his cock back to full hardness, the sound echoing in the room, and Chanyeol loves that. Loves that slick sound. It sounds like the clench of his body. Sounds like sex. He wants more. Wants more and more. 

“Take the cage off,” Jongin orders, always finding a new way to surprise Chanyeol. 

Chanyeol’s hands shake as he furiously unlocks the cage before Jongin can say anything else, before he can change his mind. He moans as the plastic falls away, as he discards it beside him, and his cock gets hard so fast that the blood rushes from his head. He lies back against the pillows, thrusts his hips up into the air at the feeling, eyes squeezed shut. 

“Look at you,” Jongin moans. “Look how good you fucking look.” 

Chanyeol groans, his chest working overtime as he looks at Jongin looking at him. _Come over here,_ Chanyeol thinks. _Come over here and fuck me so good I can’t walk tomorrow._

Jongin, magnetized, crosses to the bed, but not before he stops at the bedside table, grabs the lube from where he left it. 

“You’re all messy,” Jongin says, and he sits in front of Chanyeol, puts Chanyeol’s legs over his own. He strokes his fingers along Chanyeol’s hole, sensitive and used. “You wanna get messier?” 

“Yes, sir,” Chanyeol moans. “Please.” 

“First,” Jongin says, “I’m going to edge you, so be a good boy.” He raises the bottle of lube high over Chanyeol’s body, drips it down cold onto Chanyeol’s stomach. He hisses, and the hiss turns into a moan once Jongin begins to rub it into his skin, over his cock. “If you come without permission, you will regret it.” 

“Yes, sir,” Chanyeol agrees. “Yes, sir. I know, sir.” 

“If I was mean, and I mean, if I was _really cruel_ ,” Jongin says, and he circles his hand wickedly over the head of Chanyeol’s cock, makes him tense and whine, “I would _make_ you lose.” He smiles down at Chanyeol as he twists, thrusts, moans. “Do you know how fast I could make you come right now?” 

He pumps at Chanyeol’s cock hard and fast for a moment, and within a couple seconds, within the blink of a fucking eye, Chanyeol is on the edge of orgasm, fingernails in the fucking dirt as he tries to hang on. Chanyeol begins to babble, brain moving faster than his mouth, and he moans sharply, desperately. _No_ , he thinks. _Please._ He wants to be good. He wants to be _good_. 

Suddenly, the pressure of his hand is removed, leaves Chanyeol’s heartbeat thumping at the head of his cock, dizzy and wanton. Chanyeol squeezes his eyes until he sees stars. His body shakes as he puts every cell into holding himself back from the sizzling heat that threatens to consume him. 

Jongin gives him a moment, lets the fires calm to embers, and his breath escapes him in slow pushes. Chanyeol loves him for the respite, loves him for the blessing of a second or two to collect himself. 

“Do you know how fast I could make you come if I wanted?” Jongin whispers. 

“Y-Yes, sir,” Chanyeol says breathlessly. 

“Good.” He sheathes Chanyeol’s cock in his slick hand, head to base, slow. Torturously slow. “I don’t want you to come yet. Do you understand?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“And who controls this little cock?” 

He squeezes the circle of his fingers under the head of Chanyeol’s cock, makes him shiver and shake. 

“You do, sir,” Chanyeol whines. “ _You_ do, sir.” 

“So when you’re getting close,” Jongin says, slipping his fist down over the shaft slowly once more, “you say…” 

“ _I’m close, sir_ ,” Chanyeol answers. 

Jongin smiles prettily. “Already?” The smile bends to a smirk. “But we’re just getting started.” 

Chanyeol laughs through a moan, but when Jongin begins to polish the head of Chanyeol’s cock with the palm of his hand, the laughter dies. Chanyeol tilts his hips back, fingers tangling in the sheets like he’s trying to hold on. He bites his lips, gasps, shudders. Tries to run away from the bright, never-ending heat. 

“Does that feel good, baby?” Jongin asks. “Does it feel good when I touch you?” 

“Yes, sir,” Chanyeol answers. “Yes, sir, I’m—”

“What, baby?” He cups his hand over the head, and he moves it, twists it, makes Chanyeol’s brain short-circuit. Chanyeol gasps, huffs. His stomach… he’s too warm. It bleeding out. Everywhere. Everywhere. “You’re what?” 

“I’m _close, sir_.” 

Jongin immediately ceases the movements of his hand, brings them back to his lap. He pours more lube into his palms, warms it as Chanyeol catches his breath, staring at Jongin. He feels like he’s about to pass out, like he’s staring at a fucking angel there between his legs. 

“That’s two,” Jongin says. “How many times do you think I can edge you before you disobey?” 

“N—I don’t wanna disobey,” Chanyeol whines. “I wanna be good.” 

“Answer the question,” Jongin smiles, and he bites his lip as he uses his free hand to rub the sensitive spot behind Chanyeol’s balls. “How many times?” He runs his hand up, wets along Chanyeol’s balls, rolls them in his palm. It is a hypersensitive kind of pleasure, and Chanyeol moans, high-pitched and kittenish as Jongin toys with him. “How long has it been since you got to come?” 

“A-A month, sir.” 

Jongin hums as he rubs the length of two fingers along his perineum, and Chanyeol tries to angle himself away from the stimulation. 

“Ah, ah,” Jongin tuts. “No running away.” 

“No, sir,” Chanyeol says, and he keeps himself perfectly still, wraps his hands in the sheets again. “No, sir. Thank you, sir.” 

“Mm, you’re _very_ welcome,” Jongin says, and he runs his fingers along Chanyeol’s hole before dragging his touch up and around . “Let’s try three, okay? Be a good boy now.” 

“Y-Yes, sir,” Chanyeol says, but it trails off into a moan as Jongin slowly fucks Chanyeol’s cock with his hand, luxurious and indulgent. “O-Oh, sir, I—” 

“You like that?” 

“ _Yes_ , sir.” 

“I don’t think you’ll like it much longer,” Jongin says, and he uses his other hand to slip a finger into Chanyeol, petting up and in. “How long do you think you can hold off if I’m touching you here?” 

“S-Sir…” 

“Hm?” 

Jongin slips another finger in beside the first, presses up against Chanyeol’s prostate. He rubs the palm of his hand along the head of Chanyeol’s cock, circles it meanly. 

“Sir, I can’t, it…ah, _fuck_.” 

“What? Feels good?” 

“Yes, sir,” Chanyeol moans. “Feels so good, sir. Feels so fucking good. _So good._ ” 

Jongin milks him, his ass and his cock, and Chanyeol loses the ability to think in complete sentences, only able to focus on the raw and incredibly piercing level of heat boiling just underneath his skin. Red, red and _electric_ and _hard_. Wet and slick and soft, and he gasps, dying with the need to fall headfirst into the deepest pleasure imaginable. 

“I-I’m _coming_ , sir,” Chanyeol moans, and he opens his eyes in terror as he realizes he has waited too long to stop it, but as soon as the words are out of his mouth, Jongin is twisting Chanyeol’s balls in his hands, the pain stomach-turning. “Oh, _fuck_ , please. Please, sir. _Please_.” 

“Please, what?” 

“Please let me come, sir,” Chanyeol begs. “Please, sir. I’ll do anything, sir. Please let me come.” 

“So soon?” Jongin asks, and he tightens his hold on Chanyeol’s balls a little more, makes Chanyeol’s voice go higher and higher as he voice his concern. “Don’t you wanna let it build? Really lose yourself in it?” 

Chanyeol moans sharply as Jongin jerks him off hard and fast, drawing him back to the edge. It is visceral, the tugging feeling in his groin. He is laid over the fire, and the flames lick at every inch of his body, beautiful and bright as he stumbles over his words, his quick warning to Jongin. 

“Again?” Jongin smiles. “So soon?” He slips his fingers back into Chanyeol’s hole, rubs at his stomach with his free hand. “God, you’re so fucking easy for it, huh?”

“Yes, sir,” Chanyeol groans. “Yes, sir. I’m easy, sir.” 

“You’ll take whatever I give you and thank me for it, huh?” 

“Yes, sir. I swear, sir.” 

“That’s a good boy,” Jongin purrs. “ _Such_ a good boy.” The love in his voice makes Chanyeol tremble, embarrassed to find that, even with all this stimulus, Jongin’s voice is still what gets him there quickest. Eager to please. Eager for love of all kinds. “You wanna come for me, don’t you?” 

“Yes, sir,” Chanyeol moans. “Please, sir.” 

“And if I didn’t want you to come? If I wanted you to hold back until I came again? If I wanted you not to come at all?” 

Even the suggestion is pinpoint cruelty, and Chanyeol whimpers as he imagines being left tremulous and unfulfilled as he sucked Jongin off, as he was fucked into the mattress, as his hair was pulled, as Jongin wrapped his hands around Chanyeol’s throat, as he was called a filthy little whore. He shakes, his hands tangling tighter in the sheets. 

“Whatever you wanted of me, sir,” Chanyeol says, and he tries to keep his voice even and steady. “I want whatever you want, sir.” 

“Liar,” Jongin smiles. 

“ _No_ ,” Chanyeol whines. “No, I’m not lying, sir. I want to please you, sir. I swear. I promise, sir.” He moves his hips from side to side, pouting as Jongin laughs at him. 

“You’re so sweet, puppy.” He takes Chanyeol’s cock in his hand, smacks it against Chanyeol’s stomach. “Look at this desperate little cock.” He coos at it. “So fucking cute. Ah, it almost makes me wanna…,” and he gets up on his knees, leans over Chanyeol’s body. It feels like a fever dream, the way Jongin stares down at him hungrily. “Mm. Bet you wanna put it in my mouth, huh?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Ah, there’s my good boy,” Jongin praises, and again, he smacks Chanyeol’s cock wetly against Chanyeol’s stomach. “So honest.” 

“Yes, sir,” Chanyeol says. “Always, sir.” 

“You know what good boys get?” 

“No, sir.” 

“Good boys get fucked,” Jongin says. “You wanna get fucked, baby?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Mm,” Jongin hums. “You think you deserve to come all over my cock?” 

“W-Whatever you… whatever sir thinks I deserve.” 

Jongin huffs, and he runs his hands lewdly over Chanyeol’s cock, over his balls, down to his hole. His thumbs slip in, pulling Chanyeol open just a touch, and Chanyeol gasps.  
“Want it here?” Jongin asks, and he withdraws his thumbs, shoves in three of his fingers. The suddenness makes Chanyeol squeal. “Yeah, you want it here. You always want it in your ass.” 

“Yes, sir,” Chanyeol says. “Always, sir.” 

Jongin pushes his cock inside Chanyeol’s body, brushes past Chanyeol’s prostate and makes him screech a surprised little moan. 

“I don’t wanna spend a minute not fucking you,” Jongin whispers, and Chanyeol whines, ashamed of the way it makes his stomach twist into knots. “I don’t wanna be anywhere else besides inside you.” 

Chanyeol looks to the side, overwhelmed with the sight and the touch and the sounds, but Jongin grabs him by the jaw, turns him back. 

“Look at me. Look at where I’m fucking you.” 

Chanyeol whines as he lowers his gaze down to where Jongin disappears inside him. He has seen it hundreds, maybe thousands of times, but it never stops being erotic on the deepest, basest level.

Chanyeol bites his lip to stop the embarrassing sounds from pouring out of him, but Jongin gets up on his knees, Chanyeol’s cock grinding against Jongin’s stomach as he kisses him quickly before grabbing Chanyeol’s thighs. 

“Legs in the air, whore,” Jongin says. “I wanna get deep.” 

Chanyeol groans as he raises his knees to his chest, but Jongin doesn’t seem satisfied with that. His hands go to Chanyeol’s ankles, holding his feet up. It is shameful, the way Jongin bends him, twists him, molds him like clay, but Chanyeol loves it. Loves this more than fucking _anything_. 

Chanyeol loses himself in the rhythm, loses himself in the pounding of his own heartbeat. He can hear it in his ears. He can feel it in his groin. He is thrumming with heat and light, and Jongin groans, deep in his chest as he fucks into the wet warmth of Chanyeol’s hole. He doesn’t know how long Jongin fucks him. Doesn’t know how Jongin manages to power into him, rough, rough, _rough_. Jongin’s sweat drips onto Chanyeol’s body, and Jongin gathers the sweat, the lube, maybe some of his own come, uses it to slick the way as he pulls at Chanyeol’s cock. 

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good,” Jongin says, and his body rolls into Chanyeol’s, exquisite and hard. “I wish I could stay inside you all day long. The rest of my life.” Chanyeol whimpers out again, the suggestion enough to make Chanyeol leak at the head of his cock. “Ah.” Jongin smiles down at him as he fucks him, hips thundering forward. “You like that idea, don’t you?” 

Jongin rubs the head of Chanyeol’s cock until he answers. 

“Yes, sir,” Chanyeol says, and he finds his voice hoarse, abused. “Yes, sir. I love it, sir.” 

“You want it all day long. All night. You wanna spend your entire fucking life in bed with me. Taking this dick.”

“ _Yes_ , sir,” Chanyeol whines. 

“Show me how much you like it,” Jongin says, and he takes Chanyeol’s cock in his hand, pulls at it roughly. “Come on my cock.” 

The permission is all he needed, apparently. His body pulls taut as Jongin cups Chanyeol’s balls, and even if he _wanted_ to stop it, he couldn’t. He is too far gone. 

Chanyeol shudders and shakes as he stares at Jongin, his eyelids fluttering like strobing light. The orgasm washes over him and drags him under like a fucking rip current, and he can’t get his head above the water. It is an all-encompassing pleasure, the kind that you could die in, and Chanyeol breathes, breathes through it. He hopes it won’t ever end. 

But then Jongin’s hand doesn’t cease, even when Chanyeol starts to hope it ends. Jongin continues to play with Chanyeol’s cock, milking it like he’s trying to wring Chanyeol dry. Chanyeol’s body quakes as he moans, higher and higher. His throat _hurts_ , his cock _hurts_. He makes a noise of distress, eyes bugging as he begins to beg Jongin to stop. _Please_ , Chanyeol thinks. _Please, I’m too sensitive._

“Did that feel good, slut?” Jongin asks, and there is a tremor in his voice as he pushes his hips again, fucks his cock into Chanyeol’s hole again. It zips down Chanyeol’s spine like ice, like fire. “Did it feel good coming?” 

“Y-Yes, sir,” Chanyeol says, and he furiously scrambles away from Jongin’s touch, angling his hips away as Jongin continues to jerk him off. “ _P-Please, sir, I—”_

He stares down at Jongin’s hand on his cock, white and wet and _so fucking slutty_ , and he brims with tears, the pleasure knifed with hot, hot pain. 

“What? I thought you liked it. I thought you wanted to come.” 

“I… I—” 

“What? Speak, baby.” 

“I… I can’t, I can’t.” 

He is shaking, his hands are shaking, and he moans as Jongin plays with his cock until he is squirming, his cock still hard, but now hyper-sensitive. 

“Wanna come again?” 

“I can’t, I can’t, I… I need to—” 

“Need what? Need a break?” 

Chanyeol nods furiously, tears spilling over, down his cheeks. 

“Color?” 

The word leaps to his lips. 

“G-Green,” he says. “Green, I…” 

“Oh, honey,” Jongin smiles. “Oh, no, I’m afraid you’ve got the wrong idea. It doesn’t stop here. This? This is just the fucking beginning.”  
  


♙

He is fucked, fucked, fucked again. Jongin tosses his body across the bed, puts him on the floor, fucks him against the bathroom door. He’s got fresh bruises on his ass, bruises on his hips in the shape of Jongin’s hands. He doesn’t know what time it is, doesn’t know how many loads of Jongin’s he’s taken nor how many of his own he’s suffered through spilling. The pleasure becomes pain, and Jongin checks on him, asks him his color. It’s green, it’s still green, but he hadn’t realized it would last this long. He hadn’t realized it would last all night. It’s been a haze. A messy haze. _What time is it? How long have I spent as his toy?_

Exhaustion is thick in his bones as he watches Jongin lazily work his soft cock, the ring long around it discarded. He is sitting in the corner of the room, staring at where he left Chanyeol, flat on the bed. Chanyeol is covered in come, though he can’t tell what’s his and what’s Jongin’s. He wants that collar, and he’s starting to get impatient. How much more will it take? 

“Come,” Jongin calls, and Chanyeol goes wordlessly. He stands there in front of Jongin before he gets his order. “Get me hard. Come on. Knees.” 

Chanyeol goes begrudgingly, slinking down to the floor between Jongin’s spread legs. He toys with Jongin’s cock. It’s kinda cute when it’s soft. 

“Put it in your mouth, slut,” Jongin says. “I don’t have all fucking day.” 

Like he hasn’t been fucking Chanyeol for hours. Like he still isn’t done after all this. 

Chanyeol leans forward, licks at the head before sucking it into his mouth. He’s always liked sucking Jongin soft, but this time, he doesn’t give it his all, slides into a bit of a mood. He’s been so fucking desperate to get that collar, but there’s no end in sight. He mouths at Jongin lazily, feels him stiffen a little, and he looks up, mouth full as he grins. 

“Is that it?” Jongin asks, clearly unimpressed, and he nudges Chanyeol with his foot. “ _Adoration_.” 

He slips down, slow like syrup, and he mouths and kisses and sucks at Jongin’s toes. Lackadaisical and smart. 

“I said _Adoration_ ,” Jongin repeats, but Chanyeol says nothing, only keeps idly moving his mouth over Jongin’s left foot. Jongin huffs, and Chanyeol knows he’s in for it, knows he’s gonna get something _terrible_ , something _good_. “You know what? Stand up.” 

Chanyeol stands. 

“Bed,” Jongin commands. “Knees. Ass in the air.” 

Chanyeol obeys, his stomach flat on the bed as he arches his back, ass on display. 

“Spread.” 

Chanyeol reaches back with both hands, spreads himself wide. His hole aches pleasantly. He’ll get it worse now, and honestly, Chanyeol can’t wait. He’s sunk so deep into the fantasy that it has all faded together. This will be bright. This will be novel. This will _hurt_.

“You were so close,” Jongin says, and Chanyeol doesn’t dare look back, knows that the insolence would make it even worse for him. “You were _so_ close, you know?” 

Chanyeol swallows thickly, upset, and if it is meant to drag some emotion out of him, it does its job. Blinking, Chanyeol ignores the swelling of disappointment inside himself. He steels his jaw, bites his lip. _I can be a brat if I wanna be._

He spits onto Chanyeol’s hole, thrusts two fingers inside, and Chanyeol bites his lip to stop the sound from pouring out. 

“Moan, slut,” Jongin taunts. “I know you want to.” 

Chanyeol keeps as silent as he can fucking manage even when Jongin dutifully strokes at his prostate, targeting it as he pumps his fingers in and out. 

“Greedy little bitch. You wanna come again?” Jongin asks. 

Chanyeol keeps his mouth shut, doesn’t answer the question even when asked a second, a third time. 

“Is that how you wanna play?” Jongin asks. “Really? You dirty little slut?” 

Chanyeol juts out his jaw, ready for a little bit of that punishment. He wants it. Wants it bad. 

“Yeah?” 

Chanyeol keeps his mouth shut as he turns to look back at Jongin, and oh, it’s bad. He knows it’s gonna be bad. There is a storm in Jongin’s eyes, power surging through him, and Chanyeol holds his body careful and still so that he doesn’t begin to tremble just from want. He pulls his fingers out of Chanyeol’s body, wipes them on the bed. 

Jongin smacks him on his bruises, and Chanyeol opens his mouth, though no sound escapes him. 

“Up,” Jongin commands. 

Chanyeol stands, uses the difference in their height to stare down at Jongin. 

“You’ll regret this,” Jongin smiles. 

He turns, and for a minute, Chanyeol thinks he’s about to walk out of the room, but instead he only goes to the dresser, pulls open a drawer. When he turns back, Chanyeol can’t help but look to see what he has in his hands, what awaits him for his bad behavior. Metal and leather. _Oh,_ Chanyeol thinks. _Oh no._

A gag. A spider gag. 

“You don’t wanna talk? Fine,” Jongin says, and he walks back across the room slowly, like he’s luxuriating in it as Chanyeol begins to whimper. “Now you don’t get the option. Turn around.” 

Chanyeol slumps as he spins. Jongin touches his back, fingers clever along his skin. 

“Thought you wanted that collar,” Jongin says. “Thought you wanted to belong to me.” 

Chanyeol bites his lip, caught between two great desires. Pain and love. _I do. I do. Please believe me, I do. I wanted it too much._

“Nothing to say, baby?” Jongin seethes, and the softness, the sweetness of the pet name is dragged through the mud of his tone. He rests the leather of the gag along Chanyeol’s shoulder. “You don’t wanna play at being a brat anymore?” 

“No, sir,” Chanyeol says softly. 

“What was that?” 

“No, sir,” Chanyeol says, and he puts a bit more bass in his voice, keeps his eyes low to show his deference. “I want to be good, sir.” 

“No, you don’t,” Jongin says. “You just wanna be spanked because you’re a greedy little painslut who can never get enough. You just wanna come. You just wanna be fucked within an inch of your life. You just wanna be a fucking cumwhore. You wanna take load after load, and it’s never enough. All you wanna do is take dick.” 

Tears spill out, and suddenly, the guilt is dripping from every pore. He’s so dirty. He’s so bad. He’s a bad boy, and he deserves the punishment. Deserves the humiliation and the pain. 

“Yes, sir,” Chanyeol cries. “I’m sorry, sir.” 

“Shut the fuck up,” Jongin says, “and open your mouth.” 

Chanyeol obeys the command, opens his mouth and whines as the gag is slid into place. It is the strangest sensation, the metal along his lips and cheeks, and he moans, a wet little sound as Jongin turns him by the shoulders, spins him back around. 

“There you go,” Jongin says, and he slaps him lightly on the cheek before thrusting two fingers into Chanyeol’s open mouth. “Happy now? Now that you don’t have to do anything except be a hole for my cock?” 

Chanyeol tries to speak, but he can only _try_.

“Color?” 

Chanyeol struggles for _green, green, green._

“Remember,” Jongin says, and this part is even more serious than the rest. “Stop is shaking your head back and forth over and over again.” 

Chanyeol nods, breathing hard through his nose. 

“Knees,” Jongin orders. “Let’s put you back to work, cockslut.” 

Chanyeol sinks down to the floor, hands behind his back as Jongin pushes into his waiting mouth, and his eyes roll back in his head as Jongin makes him choke, spit pouring out of his mouth, down his body and onto the floor.  
  


♙

He doesn’t remember his jaw ever hurting so fucking bad. He feels useless and tired, but when Jongin demands that he rides Jongin’s dick like his life depends on it, Chanyeol forces himself to obey.

Hands tied, held above his head, Chanyeol struggles to get into place as he climbs into Jongin’s lap. His limbs move clumsily, the exhaustion settling into his bones. Jongin is dressed again, the shirt unbuttoned to reveal his black undershirt, his cock pulled through the fly of his dress pants. Chanyeol doesn’t remember when Jongin got dressed. He must have been trying to catch his breath, face down in the sheets, the gag finally removed.

“Come on,” Jongin says. “Sit on it.” 

Chanyeol whines as he kneels down, trying to somehow get Jongin’s cock into him without the use of his hands. He grows in frustration, and he chances a look up at Jongin, staring up at the ceiling in boredom. 

“I thought you were good at this.” 

Chanyeol whimpers, asks, “Can you help me? Please?” He looks into Jongin’s eyes, lashes long and wet. “Please, sir?” 

Jongin sighs, works his hand beneath Chanyeol’s body to push the head of his cock against Chanyeol’s hole. “Happy?” 

Chanyeol sighs, satisfied, and he lowers his body down, sinking onto Jongin’s dick until he is totally seated. 

“Now, stop wasting my time,” Jongin says. “Ride it.” 

Chanyeol moans, tired, but he rolls his hips back and forth, happy to find that even now, even after everything, Jongin groans in pleasure. Chanyeol smiles, hands behind his head. He works himself to a dizzy rhythm, head light, no thoughts of anything besides Jongin inside him.  
  


♙

His eyes are closing on their own accord now, so fucking exhausted that he can barely keep his eyes open as he works himself back on Jongin’s cock.

“Past your bedtime?” Jongin teases, and he tickles Chanyeol on his sides, makes him squeeze and tighten, shaking his body as he fucks himself. “I thought you wanted to serve. Thought you wanted to make it up to me.” He laughs. “Thought you wanted that collar.” 

Chanyeol whines desperately, and he fucks himself harder, harder, harder. He doesn’t have any energy left, he’s running on fucking empty, but he moves, moves, moves. 

When Jongin takes him by the hips, thunders forward, Chanyeol collapses to the bed, body weak and wet. 

“You’re so close now,” Jongin says. “Come on. Just a little more. Just a little more, and it’s yours.” 

Chanyeol knows he could tap out, knows that, at any point, it could be over like that. _Red, red, red. Jongin, please, no._

But Chanyeol doesn’t want that. He could withstand anything, he thinks, if it meant that Jongin would tell him he was proud. That Jongin was pleased with him. He wants that collar. Wants his name emblazoned across his neck. _Baby. Jongin’s_ baby.

“I want it,” Chanyeol says deliriously. “I want it, sir.” 

“I know, baby. I know.”  
  


♙

The night dies, and Chanyeol survives it by the skin of his teeth.

Jongin brings him into the bathroom, holds him carefully as the water warms, the glass of the shower stall fogging with heat. Chanyeol is gingerly deposited inside, and Jongin follows close behind, smiling as he gathers Chanyeol up and pushes them both under the downpour. It is a moment frozen in rain, crystal clear, Jongin’s strong arms wrapped around him. Chanyeol could fucking cry, the love so pure and sweet. 

Jongin washes him head to toe, and it feels like heaven after everything. His eyes flutter shut, thinks he should warn Jongin that he might fall asleep. But Jongin holds him up, doesn’t let Chanyeol slip. He kisses him sweetly, whispers sweet words to him, and Chanyeol wonders if its over. Wonders if they’re done playing. It was certainly a ride, he thinks. 

Once they’re both clean, Jongin shuts off the water, gently navigates them both until he’s able to wrap Chanyeol up in a towel, fluffy and white. He pats it over Chanyeol’s skin until they’re dry before going to the sink, pumping lotion into his hand. Chanyeol’s expression must change because Jongin rolls his eyes, applying it to Chanyeol’s skin. 

“Are you hungry?” Jongin asks. 

“S-Starving.” Chanyeol smiles. “A-And thirsty too.” 

Jongin smiles at him as he kisses him, the center of his lips. Red and raw. 

“I’ll run down and get something,” he says, and he kisses Chanyeol again. “I’ve got pajamas for you in the bottom drawer. Put them on and get in bed, okay? I already changed the sheets.” 

_When did you manage that?_ , Chanyeol wants to ask, but God, he doesn’t care. The only thing that he cares about is Jongin. Jongin’s immense and immeasurable goodness. 

“I’ll be right back,” Jongin says, and he kisses Chanyeol again. “You’ll be okay on your own for a bit?” 

Chanyeol bites his lip, nods. 

Jongin leaves, and Chanyeol stands there, stomach fluttering. He walks back into the bedroom, heads over to the drawers. There is a set of white cotton pajamas, a pair of simple white boxer-briefs, and Chanyeol smiles as he threads his limbs through them, dressing carefully. The shower woke him up a little, and this… this delicate aftercare, Chanyeol loves that. Doesn’t wanna miss it. 

He turns, and the bed is made, making the present laying in the center all the more obvious. 

The collar waits for him. He stands there staring at it until Jongin comes back into the room, the sound of the door enough to make Chanyeol turn. There is a platter of meats, cheeses, and fruits in his hand, two bottles of Gatorade under his arm. He is radiant. 

Jongin smiles. “Ah, you found it. I guess I didn’t hide it well."

“I… I love you,” Chanyeol says, and he doesn’t know why the words bring him to tears. “Ah. I’m sorry.” 

Jongin laughs as he sets the food down on the bedside table, pulling Chanyeol into another hug, softer than ever before. 

“Don’t cry, don’t cry,” Jongin says, and he threads his fingers through Chanyeol’s hair. “Please. I love you. I love you so much, baby. And now you’re mine, right?” 

“Yes,” Chanyeol says, and he buries his face into Jongin’s neck. “Yes. Yes. I’m yours.” 

He pulls Chanyeol back by the shoulders, eyes warm as he looks into Chanyeol’s eyes. He leans in slowly as if to ask for Chanyeol’s permission, and Chanyeol tilts his chin up, offers Jongin his mouth. 

The kiss feels like a ring, eternal and boundless, and Chanyeol moans softly, happily. 

“If you’re mine, then it’s yours,” Jongin says. “Do you want me to put it on?”

“Y-Yes,” Chanyeol says, eyes wet. “Yes, sir. Please.” 

Jongin smiles, gently turns Chanyeol, and when the collar settles around his neck, Chanyeol feels weight settle pleasantly in his heart. He is grounded. He _belongs_. Jongin turns Chanyeol back around when the collar is buckled around his neck, and he runs his fingers over the leather. It tickles, and Chanyeol gasps. 

“Looks good on you,” Jongin says. “Pretty.” 

“Thank you, sir.” 

Jongin kisses him, licks into Chanyeol’s mouth. 

“Sit,” Jongin says. “After our snack, you’re going straight to bed.” 

Chanyeol lies back against the pile of pillows, and Jongin cracks the seal on the Gatorade before handing it to Chanyeol. Yellow. His favorite. He sips at it eagerly, slipping down his throat coolly. 

“What time is it?” 

Jongin scoffs. “Three. We’ve… we’ve been at it for a while.” Jongin places a strawberry before Chanyeol’s lips, lets Chanyeol bite the fruit from the greenery. “Don’t worry. I’ll let you rest tomorrow.” 

“O-Okay,” Chanyeol says. “I-Is the scene over?” 

“You just got your collar.” Jongin smiles. “What makes you think I’m done with you?” 

Chanyeol’s stomach goes warm as he watches Jongin’s throat work, swallowing. 

“Focus on your food,” Jongin warns. “Baby.” 

Chanyeol looks down to his drink, hides his smile. 

They eat themselves full, and after that, Jongin curls Chanyeol small, their bodies tight together. 

“You should take the collar off,” Jongin says sleepily. 

“No,” Chanyeol says. “Not yet.” 

“Before you fall asleep,” Jongin says, and he kisses Chanyeol’s neck. “And that’s an order, you hear me?” 

Chanyeol closes his eyes, the grin painted across his lips.  
  


♙

When he wakes, the bed is empty, but the curtains of the windows are drawn. The sun is bright, high. It feels warm as Chanyeol throws the covers back, stretches like a cat in the rays.

It is a lovely way to wake, but without Jongin, it seems imperfect. Chanyeol takes a moment to assess the damage to his body, the ache of the bruises sinking in his flesh as he sits up, looks around the room. He remembers it being messier, ropes and paddles and a plug and cock rings and dirty, dirty sheets. He wonders if Jongin woke up early just to clean. 

He stands, pads to the bathroom, but that too is empty. He contemplates waiting in the bedroom for Jongin, but maybe Chanyeol will be able to surprise him. Maybe he will be able to sink to his knees and start the day right for them both. 

Chanyeol opens the door, looking left and right, and he pauses to listen. Silence. Dead silence. He shuts the door to the room behind him, makes his way downstairs for the first time since he walked up the evening before. Once he is at the bottom landing, he pauses again to listen for noise, but he still finds silence. Furrowing his brow, he creeps around the corner, looking into the living room. Finds emptiness. Every corner he turns, he expects to find Jongin waiting for him, but when he walks into the kitchen, he finds a glorious breakfast waiting for him instead. 

The spread on the counter makes Chanyeol’s eyes widen. There are small bowls of fresh berries, strawberries, blueberries, and raspberries. There are two plates, segments of orange, grapefruit, and mango fanned in a large circles. In a large bowl, there are cubes of pineapple, cantaloupe, watermelon, and honeydew. There is a platter of small danishes, cheese and cherry, and other small pastries, sticky buns studded with walnuts and raisins, lemon-ginger scones, and miniature muffins, both chocolate chip and blueberry. There is a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket, and Chanyeol sways from foot to foot as he thinks about Jongin setting all this up for him. He closes his eyes, lets it settle inside him. 

When Chanyeol inhales, he smells sweetness, overwhelming sweetness, but then, underneath it all, he smells coffee. 

He turns, sees the pot full and hot on the counter, and he walks over, pours himself a cup into one of the mugs that sit nearby. He stirs in cream and sugar, the brown and white swirling, and he smiles to himself. A simple pleasure, but divine. 

Something smells wonderful, like maple and butter, and as Chanyeol stands there, braced against the counter, his mug warming his hands, he looks around. Jongin is either incredibly quiet, good at hiding, or he’s gone. He doubts the first two, but his heart clenches in his chest as he thinks about the third. He doesn’t like when Jongin’s away for too long when he’s like this. When he’s needy. 

Just as the thought enters his head, he hears the front door swing open. He immediately stands up a little straighter, and he keeps still as he listens to Jongin kick off his shoes, padding into the kitchen. He looks surprised to see Chanyeol standing there, coffee in hand. 

“You’re up,” Jongin says, frowning a little. 

“I’m sorry,” Chanyeol says. 

Jongin softens, laughs. “I didn’t mean it like that, I only meant…,” and he raises his hand, shows Chanyeol the little plastic jug of orange juice, “I had to run out, and I wanted to let you sleep. I was gonna wake you when I got home. I’m sorry.” 

“N-No, I… I was really surprised,” Chanyeol says, and he can feel his face heat. “Thank you.” 

“No thanks necessary,” Jongin says. “I think you’ve earned it.” He walks over, sets the orange juice on the table before he takes Chanyeol’s mug from his hands. He sets it down on the counter beside them, and it makes him crowd close. He takes Chanyeol’s hips in his hands, and Chanyeol can feel the residual cold from the mid-November morning. He kisses Chanyeol softly, and when he pulls back, he looks at Chanyeol with bright eyes. “Hi.” 

“Hi,” Chanyeol whispers. 

Jongin reaches up, rubs his thumb against Chanyeol’s bottom lip. 

“Hungry?” he asks. 

Slowly, he pushes his thumb into Chanyeol’s mouth, and Chanyeol sucks on it eagerly as he nods. Jongin smiles as he withdraws, rubs the pad of his finger slick with spit over the seam of Chanyeol’s lips before kissing him again.

“Help yourself,” Jongin says, and he smiles so lovingly at Chanyeol that he forgets what the rest of the day will certainly hold. “I put the French toast in the oven to keep it warm before I ran out.” 

Chanyeol feels his knees buckle a little, and Jongin laughs, throwing his head back. His happy, terrible laugh. Chanyeol loves him. Loves him and him alone, forever. 

He piles his plate full of fruit and pastries as Jongin brings their coffee and the maple syrup to the table. They sit with their legs intertwined as they slice through the brown sugar and cinnamon-crusted French toast, and Chanyeol moans as he tastes his first bite, dripping with liquid sugar. 

“Do you like it?” Jongin asks. 

“Yes,” Chanyeol says. “God, I… it’s so good. Thank you.” 

Jongin hides his smile. “You like being pampered, don’t you?” 

“Yes, sir,” Chanyeol answers. “When I’ve earned it.” 

“Well, I think you have, and I’m the judge, aren’t I?”

“Yes,” Chanyeol says. “Yes, always, sir.” 

Jongin nods at Chanyeol’s plate, watches as he lifts another bite to his mouth, the syrup sitting on his bottom lip before he licks it off. 

“I’m gonna treat you softly,” Jongin warns, “because you’ve earned it, but if you decide to act out just to get some attention—”

“I won’t,” Chanyeol promises. “I’ll be good. I swear.” 

“Good,” Jongin says. “Good, that’s what I hoped you’d say.” He gestures at Chanyeol with his fork. “Once we’re finished, you get upstairs, get your clothes off, and put your collar on, all right? Then right back down to me, where you belong.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“There’s a good boy,” Jongin praises, and he rubs his foot against Chanyeol’s. “My baby.”  
  


♙

He walks back downstairs with his collar tucked neatly in place, his hair pushed back off his forehead. It is strange, walking through a house that is not his own while naked, but he stands up straight, doesn’t let it bother him much. He is a prized possession now. He is something to be treasured and loved. He passes a mirror in the foyer before he makes his way into the family room, studies his appearance for a moment. His cheeks are flushed already, his collarbones littered with bruises from Jongin’s mouth.

Chanyeol smiles, pleased. 

When he walks under the archway of the living room, the fireplace is roaring, and Jongin is sitting on the couch, legs spread possessively. On the table, there are two champagne flutes, the jug of orange juice, the ice bucket with the bottle of champagne nestled inside. 

Wordlessly, Jongin pats the spot next to him, and Chanyeol goes, curls up next to Jongin. Then, Jongin covers Chanyeol’s naked body with one of the soft throw blankets. It seems oversized, larger than a normal throw, because it swallows Chanyeol in the microfiber and fur. Gently, he slips down to rest his head on Jongin’s lap. Immediately, Jongin threads his fingers through Chanyeol’s hair, scratches his nails across Chanyeol’s scalp lovingly. Chanyeol hums, rubs his cheek against Jongin’s thigh. 

“How are you feeling?” Jongin asks. 

“Good,” Chanyeol says, and his eyes slip closed as he curls his body up small. “Really good.” 

They sit there, Chanyeol taking the heat that Jongin’s body generates, and Chanyeol loses track of time and space as he slips under again, Jongin’s hand in his hair, fingers playing along the back of his neck. He whimpers as the tremor of a tickle arches runs jagged down his spine, and he shuts his eyes tight. His body leaps to respond to the affection, and he can’t believe that after the night before he can still get hard. He came so many times, back to back and oversensitive. He shivers as his memories flood him with warmth. 

“What are you thinking about?” Jongin asks, and he cups the back of Chanyeol’s neck. “Hm?” 

“You,” Chanyeol whispers. 

“Mm.” He rubs the pads of his fingers into Chanyeol’s neck, massaging away some of the tension. “You’re so sweet.” 

“T-Thank you, sir.” 

Jongin continues to pet him lovingly, and Chanyeol revels in the feeling. He hums, happy, and he turns onto his stomach, his face nuzzling against the crotch of Jongin’s pants. It makes Jongin laugh, and he massages Chanyeol’s shoulders as he lies there. 

“You want something to drink, baby?” Jongin asks. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Sit up,” Jongin orders, and Chanyeol sleepily obeys, the soft blanket laid over his lap, a spit of modesty. 

He watches as Jongin unwraps the foil from the bottle, hyper-focused on the way Jongin’s hands move, deft and clever. Jongin pops the cork, a curl of smoke pouring out. Jongin does everything so gracefully. He plays with Chanyeol the same way. Jongin has always been good with his hands. 

He pours the champagne into the glasses, tops with the orange juice before handing Chanyeol’s flute to him. They tip the rims together, and it chimes in the air. Jongin keeps his eyes locked with Chanyeol as the sip from their drinks, bubbling and sweet. The well wishes go unsaid, but Chanyeol can feel them as Jongin looks at him, their legs tangled, their bodies angled towards each other. 

“You know, I’ve been looking forward to this for a while,” Jongin says, his glass half empty by the time he speaks. He stretches out his hand, finger toying with Chanyeol’s collar. “I had this made months ago.” 

“R-Really?” 

“Wanted to make sure it was perfect for you,” Jongin admits. 

Chanyeol’s stomach turns inside him as he drains his glass, overwhelmed by the secret, by Jongin’s love. He holds the empty glass low in his lap.

Jongin nods towards Chanyeol’s glass. 

“Another?” 

“N-No, I… I want—” 

“Ask for what you want,” Jongin says, and he takes Chanyeol’s empty glass, puts it beside his own on the table before turning back to him, taking Chanyeol’s hands in his. “I’m inclined to give you anything at the moment.” 

Chanyeol’s face goes red hot, and the warmth spills down his body. 

“I want… I want you,” Chanyeol whispers. 

“Haven’t gotten enough yet?” 

“No,” Chanyeol says. “Never.” 

Jongin smiles, bright like a breaking sun, and he cradles Chanyeol’s face in his hands, kissing Chanyeol sweetly. It is a lovely feeling, Jongin’s lips against his own, a feeling made all the lovelier when Jongin cautiously licks into Chanyeol’s mouth. The kiss rapidly turns from sweet to filthy, and Chanyeol moans into Jongin’s mouth, neck arched as Jongin gets up to his knees. 

“Lie back,” he whispers, and he kisses Chanyeol again, lush and full like a song as he throws the blanket to the floor. 

Chanyeol does not want to leave Jongin, not even for a moment, so pulling away, lying back against the leather of the couch, it feels like a torture of its own. He whimpers as he obeys the order, lying down, one leg along the back of the couch, one hung off the edge. 

“What do you want, baby?” Jongin asks. “Let me spoil you.” 

Chanyeol squirms as the words begin to simmer through him, the hot pressure in his middle already beginning to take hold. He blinks, blinks through honey, and he reaches for Jongin’s hands.

“Whatever you want, sir,” Chanyeol says. “I want whatever you want.” 

Jongin looks down at him like he is a piece of art, careful and hesitant. Then, suddenly, he is reaching behind him. Chanyeol arches his neck to watch as he grabs the bottle of champagne from its bath, a twinkling dance of ice as he raises it high over Chanyeol’s body. 

The first drop of water onto his abdomen makes him screech out a little sound. The second makes him shiver. The third makes him moan. 

Slowly, slowly, Jongin brings the glass down to touch Chanyeol’s body, and Chanyeol hisses, his chest caving in as he draws a sharp breath. Jongin moves the bottle, draws little rivers of condensation over Chanyeol. He holds Chanyeol’s gaze, the corner of his mouth raised as he plays with him. 

The ice chills over Chanyeol’s skin, makes goosebumps raise, and he gasps. 

“Do you like that?” Jongin asks. 

“Y-Yes, sir,” Chanyeol says. “Yes, sir, I—”

Jongin smiles as he runs the slick end of the bottle along the inside of Chanyeol’s thigh, and Chanyeol spreads his legs on instinct. 

“You do like it, huh?” Jongin says, and he takes Chanyeol’s hard cock in his free hand, gives it a little stroke. “I didn’t know if you’d wanna play today. Thought maybe I was too rough with you yesterday.” 

“N-No,” Chanyeol says. “Y-You gave me… you were good to me. You were so good to me. Thank you.” 

Jongin hums, puts the bottle back in the bath, but he returns with a cube of ice, tracing frigid lines over Chanyeol’s thighs. 

“Thank you,” Jongin says. “I don’t tell you enough how happy it makes me that you trust me to do this.” He skims the ice over the head of Chanyeol’s cock, makes his hips buck as he attempts to escape. “I love you.” 

“I love you, sir,” Chanyeol says. “I love you, I’m—”

“Ready for something else?” Jongin asks. “Open your mouth, please.” 

For some reason, the _please_ sticks in Chanyeol’s head, and he smiles, opening his mouth. 

Jongin is deliberate as he places the cube of ice on Chanyeol’s tongue. He leans over Chanyeol’s body, warms Chanyeol through, gives him something to grind against as he kisses Chanyeol thoroughly, the ice passed between them lessening and lessening until there is nothing but water, nothing but love. 

Chanyeol’s first orgasm of the day comes just a few moments later, Jongin’s hand between their bodies, rubbing him softly through the rippling waves of pleasure. Jongin smiles against Chanyeol’s lips as he gasps out a whimpering cry that fades seamlessly to a deep moan. He wraps his arms around Jongin’s neck, holds their bodies together. He breathes out unsteadily as he hugs Jongin close to him. Jongin breathes, their abdomens slick with Chanyeol’s come. Chanyeol doesn’t know if it’s the champagne, but he feels the bubbles rise to his head. 

“Thank you, sir,” Chanyeol says. 

Jongin looks into his eyes, smiles before he kisses Chanyeol sweetly. 

“Come on,” Jongin says, his lips against Chanyeol’s. “Upstairs. There’s so much I wanna do to you.”  
  


♙

Jongin puts the ring around himself and then around Chanyeol. He thinks he’ll need it. No, he _knows_ he’ll need it. He wants to fuck himself silly, stupid, as silly and stupid as Jongin makes him feel. Silly with love.

Jongin lays Chanyeol’s body on the bed, and Chanyeol can barely keep the tears from his eyes. There is romance here now—he is prized and worthy of the same adoration that he shows Jongin, and suddenly, all the colors of the paint mix together. Red, pink, violet, and blue, blue, blue. 

Jongin kisses down Chanyeol’s naked body, sucking kisses to his skin, and Chanyeol arches his back as Jongin threads his fingers through Chanyeol’s. Chanyeol holds on, holds on like he’s trying not to slip off the balcony’s edge, and when Jongin whispers “Eyes on me,” Chanyeol realizes that he had his eyes squeezed shut. 

He looks down at Jongin, at his mouth where it plays against Chanyeol’s stomach. Jongin moves as he flicks his tongue out, kittenishly licking at Chanyeol’s hip bone. 

“I’m going to give you a reward,” Jongin says, and he wraps his hand around the base of Chanyeol’s cock, circling the metal of the cock ring with his fingers. “Would you like that?” 

“ _Y-Yes_ , sir,” Chanyeol gasps. “Yes, sir. Please, sir.” 

Jongin smiles, presses a chaste kiss to Chanyeol’s hip before he moves, moves again, hands at Chanyeol’s thighs as he licks the head of Chanyeol’s cock. 

The pleasure is surreal, and Chanyeol dutifully resists every urge to thrust into the wet heat of Jongin’s mouth. He squeezes the sheets at his sides, body strung tight as Jongin mouths at him, sucks and licks until Chanyeol needs more, begs for it. It feels like it goes on forever before Jongin acknowledges him, smiling as he uses his own spit to stroke Chanyeol’s cock slowly. He milks sounds out of Chanyeol, embarrassing and high-pitched and _needy_. 

“More?” Jongin asks. 

Chanyeol whimpers as he nods, begs again. He’d beg a million times if he had to. Just always wants more of Jongin. 

Jongin smiles. “If you say so." 

The hands at Chanyeol’s thighs push so that Chanyeol is spread, totally spread, and Chanyeol moans at the feeling, the rough treatment recalling the night before. He directs Chanyeol to hold his knees, vulnerable as he holds himself open for Jongin. And Chanyeol is happy—he wants Jongin already. He didn’t have enough champagne to feel this drunk, this inebriated by pleasure. He blinks slowly as he waits for Jongin to get the lube, but Jongin doesn’t move from the bed. Just stares down at Chanyeol’s body. 

Chanyeol waits in silence, but he can hear the frantic sound of his own breathing, realizes just how much he wants. 

Jongin lies flat on the bed in front of Chanyeol, stomach against the sheets, and he presses a wet kiss to Chanyeol’s hole that leaves him shivering through a groan. 

“W-Wait,” Chanyeol whines. “Please, I—” 

But Jongin ignores his pleas, eats Chanyeol out like he’s been hungry for it, and Chanyeol struggles to keep his legs in the air as the furious waves shake through him. It feels like lightning inside him, bright, shocking, lovely. 

Jongin licks at him with the flat of his tongue, hums, and Chanyeol feels the vibrations run from his groin to his feet. He curls his toes, overwhelmed by the pleasure. 

He presses wet, open-mouthed kisses to Chanyeol’s hole, dips the tip of his tongue inside, and Chanyeol nearly shatters apart. When was the last time he felt such all-consuming joy? Just a few moments ago? He is drowning in the wholeness, the totality of their love, and he will gladly give all of himself to keep it. 

Jongin takes Chanyeol’s cock in his hand, begins to pull at it, and Chanyeol begins to cry, the tears sliding down the sides of his face. He thrashes from side to side as he tries to keep himself from succumbing to the feelings racking his body. Little pathetic sounds seep out of him, and Jongin pauses the movements of his hand and his mouth. He presses a kiss to Chanyeol’s thigh. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks. “You don’t wanna come?” 

“Please,” Chanyeol begs, “please, I just want to feel you. I want to feel you inside me.” 

Jongin presses another kiss to Chanyeol’s thigh, and even if Chanyeol couldn’t see it, he would be able to feel the smile. 

“I’ll give you what you want if you’re patient, baby,” Jongin promises. “I will.” 

Chanyeol wriggles there on the bed, legs spread, knees against his chest. He waits for Jongin to approach, waits for him to settle between his legs. His palms cup Chanyeol’s knees, and he kisses the inside, sucks a little bruise as he taps the head of his wet cock against Chanyeol’s slick, sensitive hole. 

“God, you’re so beautiful,” Jongin praises. “I just want to… I want to fuck you full. I wanna watch it leak back out of you.” 

“Yes,” Chanyeol says, “yes, please, sir, I want your come.” 

“So gorgeous,” Jongin whispers, and he pushes inside, Chanyeol is overwhelmed. 

_Breed me_ , he thinks. _Make me so full I can’t think of anything or anyone but you._

Jongin kisses him sweetly, as if Chanyeol needs time to adjust to the feeling. It is good, so good, and it makes Chanyeol smile against Jongin’s mouth. 

Jongin fucks him slowly, gentle rolls of his hips, and it feels like riding the waves of the ocean, lazy in the morning. Chanyeol holds Jongin by the neck as he bares his own, lets Jongin read the word emblazoned across his throat. _Yours_ , he thinks. _Your baby. All yours._

Jongin whispers the sweetest words in his ear, kisses the lobe as Chanyeol groans. He is on fire, their bodies burning up, and Chanyeol doesn’t know how much longer he could possibly last like this, on the brink of eternity caught between Jongin’s heart, body, mind, cornered with forever. 

“I love you, baby,” Jongin whispers, and he moves his hand between their bodies, stroking Chanyeol’s cock as he moans. “I love you.” 

Chanyeol’s mouth hangs open as he feels his soul leave his body, as Jongin drags him again into the great expanse of joy and love, as he trembles uselessly, moaning until he cannot form words any longer, until he is empty of all things except for Jongin. 

He lies there, limbs flailed across the bed, Jongin still inside him, and he spits out a little laugh. He doesn’t think he could ever come again in his life, not even if he wanted to, so fucking spent. So fucking drained. 

“Good boy,” Jongin says, and he smiles down at Chanyeol, sweat dripping from Jongin’s brow onto Chanyeol’s body. “Now give me another.” He takes Chanyeol’s cock in his hand, strokes it wetly, wet with Chanyeol’s come. “I want another from you. You gonna give me another?” 

“Y-Yes, sir,” Chanyeol says, the unattainable suddenly becoming attainable once Jongin asks for it.  
  


♙

He falls asleep. He doesn’t know when. The past hour, the hour before that… they blur together. A mess of sex and submission. When he comes to, he is in the bath, and Jongin is holding his hand. Blinking the sleep away, he sits up a little straighter, hissing as his back objects.

“Easy,” Jongin says, and he runs his hands through the water. “Break time.” 

Chanyeol whines. 

“Don’t be bad,” Jongin warns. “We’re in the bathroom, I could use you as a urinal.” 

It is a viscerally disgusting thought, and still, it makes Chanyeol’s stomach twist up inside him. He whines, tightens his hand around Jongin’s. 

“Whore,” Jongin says fondly. 

Chanyeol smiles, sinks down into the warm, sweet-smelling water, and his eyes go heavy. By the time this is over, he thinks he’ll probably be able to sleep for a whole day, maybe longer. _When it’s over_ , he thinks. _Oh no._ Frantically, he reaches up, pets for the collar, and when he finds it still hooked around his neck, he relaxes back against the tile. 

“Wouldn’t take it off without telling you,” Jongin says, and he leans forward, runs the tip of his finger along the leather. “Now that you’ve earned it.” 

Chanyeol’s stomach boils with arousal, and he wonders what it means that even after all that, he can still get it up, still feel an overwhelming, stifling kind of physical love. Maybe he’s too greedy. Maybe he’s… maybe he’s too much for Jongin. Maybe they aren’t meant to be together, and maybe he’s supposed to be thrown around, used by everyone until there is nothing left of him to take. 

“Hey, hey,” Jongin says softly. “Red?” 

“No, no, I just—I’m sorry, I’m fine, I just…” 

Jongin squeezes Chanyeol’s hand in his, and it’s enough to make Chanyeol look into his eyes, wet with the beginning of tears.

“Do you want to stop?” Jongin asks. “We can—” 

“No, I don’t want to, I… I’m still… I still want more,” Chanyeol says, and it sounds like a secret. He flicks his eyes down, stares at the water. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I always want more. You’ve already given me… so much, and I still—” 

“You wouldn’t be you any other way.” It makes him look up, and Jongin is looking at him warmly, that same fondness, that same love. “I love you.” 

“I love you, too.” Jongin cocks an eyebrow at him. “Sir.” 

Jongin smiles, bright and white and beautiful, and it makes Chanyeol smile, too. 

“See?” He reaches forward, drags both of his hands through Chanyeol’s hair like he’s petting him. Chanyeol’s eyes flutter shut. “Such a good boy for me.” He pulls back gently, not as hard as he could, tilts Chanyeol’s head up until he’s looking into Jongin’s eyes. “Ready for more?” 

“Yeah,” Chanyeol says. “More, please.” 

Jongin stands from the edge of the tub, looks down at Chanyeol. 

“Finish your bath, and meet me downstairs,” Jongin says. “Wear the collar, your sweatshirt, and nothing else. Fifteen minutes, understand?” 

“Yes, sir,” Chanyeol says. 

“Good boy,” Jongin praises. “Oh, and… the collar.” 

“Yes?” 

“Don’t get it wet,” Jongin reminds him. “It was a gift, so you better treat it nicely.” 

The door shuts behind him, and Chanyeol gets to work. He unclasps the collar, even though he wants to keep it on. He heeds Jongin’s warning, places it where it can’t possibly be damaged. 

He scrubs his hair with sweet-smelling shampoo, conditions, washes his body clean. He feels like a new person by the time the water is draining, and when he rinses off with a quick shower, he distantly remembers his cock cage. He’s soft now, after the events of the morning and for… most of the afternoon. Wonders if he should put it back on. He stands there, a terry-cloth towel wrapped around him as he bites his lip. Debates both options. He wonders what Jongin would want. He said _nothing else_ , didn’t he? 

Chanyeol towels off, dry as he can manage, and he urinates quickly, moaning at the feeling. It’s almost enough to get him hard after, but he doesn’t have time to think about that right now. 

He looks at himself in the mirror, studies the red marks of Jongin’s mouth all along his neck, and he can’t _help_ but be turned on by that. He looks down at his body, finds the purpling bruises all over himself. A tremor of arousal bites through him, and he tries to ignore it. 

Walking back into the bedroom, he goes to the drawer where he stored his clothing, and he threads his arms back through the hoodie, pulling it over his head. It’s oversized, like most of his clothes, and it hits him at the tops of his thighs. Looking in the mirror, the collar laced tight around his neck once more, the sweatshirt barely covering him somehow more lewd than nakedness itself. 

Heat rises to his cheeks, and he pulls the sleeves down to cover his hands. If Jongin asked for this, then he must know what Chanyeol would look like. He must want Chanyeol to lean into this softness. Chanyeol always does what Jongin wants. 

Chanyeol heads downstairs, unsure of how long it took him. He desperately hopes he’s within the time constraints. He doesn’t want anymore punishment, only wants praise. Only wants to please, please, please. 

Jongin is waiting in the living room, and Chanyeol approaches slowly, hands clasped behind his body. He waits in the archway, eyes low. 

“Don’t you look pretty,” Jongin comments, and Chanyeol moves his feet a little closer together, thighs squeezing tight over his balls. “Ah, is that all it takes to get you off now? A compliment?” 

“N-No, sir.” 

“Pull up your sweatshirt,” Jongin says. “Show me your cock.” 

Chanyeol pouts as he obeys, pulling it up to display his cock, hardening up as the seconds tick by. He turns his feet inward, instinctively shamed by his desire, and Jongin gets up, crosses the room to tug at Chanyeol’s dick. 

“Pretty,” Jongin praises. “Just like the rest of you.” 

Chanyeol whimpers as he squeezes his legs a little tighter, trying to stem the waves of desire. Surely, there is more waiting for him. He shouldn’t get too excited too quickly. 

“You look so good in this,” Jongin says, and he drags the tip of his nail along the top of the collar, skimming along the sensitive skin of Chanyeol’s neck. “This is your color.” 

“Thank you, sir.” 

“You still want me to call you baby, hm?” Jongin asks. “You wanna be my baby? My little puppy?” 

“Yes, sir,” Chanyeol begs. 

“Okay, baby,” Jongin says sweetly, and he cups Chanyeol’s cheek with his hand. “Okay. Go kneel.” 

Chanyeol kneels in front of the couch, and he notices the briefcase with the silver latches set on the cushion next to where Jongin was seated. Jongin follows him over, circles Chanyeol’s body. He nudges his toe against the arch of Chanyeol’s foot, makes him gasp in surprise. 

“Open the case,” Jongin tells him, and Chanyeol immediately moves to follow the order. 

He unlatches the briefcase, moans as he realizes that Jongin’s given him so much, so many presents this weekend. He runs his fingers lovingly over the small plug, a fluffy black tail attached to it. He lets the fur of the tail play through his hands, and when he lifts it up, there is a bottle of lube underneath it. Chanyeol moans. 

“You want me to put it in you, puppy?” Jongin asks. 

Jongin tuts, and a thrill runs through Chanyeol’s stomach. 

“Y-Yes, sir,” Chanyeol says. 

“You know the rules for puppies, don’t you?” 

He makes a little whimpering noise that pours from him. 

“Good boy,” Jongin praises. “Lube, baby.” Chanyeol hands him the bottle, and he immediately goes to his hands and knees, his legs spread so that Jongin has room to work. “So good for me, honey. You want it inside you?” 

Chanyeol makes a wounded sound as he rests his cheek against the carpet, hands reaching back to hold himself open. 

“Oh, look at you,” Jongin praises, and he runs three wet fingers along Chanyeol’s hole, the skin sensitive and puffy now. “Does it feel good when I touch you here, pup? It doesn’t hurt, does it?” 

Chanyeol shakes his ass back and forth. 

“Good,” Jongin says. “You tell me if it hurts. I don’t want you to hurt anymore. You hear me? I get to decide if it hurts, and I want you to feel good. I want to make you feel good.” 

Chanyeol begins to cry, overwhelmed by the emotion in his voice. Chanyeol loves him, loves him terribly much, and his tears fall to the carpet. 

“Bark for me,” Jongin says, and Chanyeol lets a healthy amount of humiliation bloom in his chest before he obeys the order, a sharp bark that leaves him feeling silly and stupid. “Ah. That’s a good pup.” 

He thrusts his finger into Chanyeol’s body, and Chanyeol moans, tilts his ass up into the air, his upper half lowered to the floor. 

“Puppy wants it,” Jongin comments. “Okay. Here you go.” 

He withdraws his finger, slides the plug into place, and Chanyeol yips. It makes Jongin laugh, and he spanks Chanyeol lightly until Chanyeol wiggles from side to side. 

“Let’s relax for a while,” Jongin suggests. “Does that sound good, baby?” 

Chanyeol wiggles his assent, and when Jongin sits on the couch, Chanyeol leaps up, lays his head on Jongin’s lip, rubbing his face against Jongin’s thigh as he pets him, raking his fingers through Chanyeol’s hair. It sends bubbles down his spine, delicious, warm. Chanyeol falls asleep, overwhelmed by the affection as it pulls him under, under.  
  


♙

He wakes in the center of the bed, and as he reaches down, he realizes the tail is still inside him. Jongin is next to him, arm around him, still petting through his hair.

“H-How long did I sleep?” he asks, voice cracking. 

“Not very long. Twenty minutes or so.”

“How did I get up here?” Chanyeol asks, turning. 

“I carried you,” Jongin says. 

Chanyeol moans, and he is facing Jongin now, their bodies angled toward each other. Jongin smiles as he reaches out, kisses Chanyeol slowly, deeply. The days seem endless here, and Chanyeol never wants to leave, never wants to have to go back to something besides this. 

Jongin strips him of his sweatshirt, and he drags the length of the tail over the back of Chanyeol’s thighs. It tickles, and Chanyeol flinches away from it. He hears Jongin smirk before he gently pulls the plug from Chanyeol’s body, tosses it across the bed. Jongin runs his hands up the backs of Chanyeol’s thighs, tests the waters. 

“You still want it?” Jongin whispers. 

“Yes,” Chanyeol says. “Yes, sir. I want it.” 

Jongin turns Chanyeol over, head in the pillows. 

“Say it again,” Jongin says. “So I can see you say it.” 

“I want it, sir,” Chanyeol says, and Jongin watches as he moves his lips. 

Jongin wets his cock, slips inside. It begins slow, and Chanyeol wraps his legs around Jongin’s body to bid him forward. Asking for more. Always more. 

“I’ll give it to you if you want it,” Jongin says, and there is no evidence of exhaustion, not even a drop of it, and Chanyeol… Chanyeol loves him. Loves him so fucking much, he can barely breathe. 

“Yes,” Chanyeol whines. “Yes, please.” 

Jongin pistons his hips, driving himself in and in, and Chanyeol cannot catch his breath, doesn’t even have enough air to moan as Jongin fucks him relentlessly. His hands fall uselessly to his chest, and he tries to get control of his limbs, tries to feel or think anything besides _Jongin, Jongin, Jongin._

“You feel so fucking good,” Jongin praises, and he leans down, chest to Chanyeol’s chest. “Does it feel good? Does my cock feel good?” 

The sound shatters out of him, rips a hole in his fucking chest as he gasps, moans, “ _Yes_.” 

“Say it again,” Jongin goads, and he is a machine, fucking Chanyeol like he is going to fuck him until they die. “Say it again, baby.” 

“ _Yes, yes, yes,_ ” Chanyeol repeats, moans, screams. 

The sounds of their bodies is deliciously vile, and Chanyeol clings to Jongin. He is a stupid baby, and all he knows now is being fucked. Taking this cock. 

Jongin gets up on his knees, plays with Chanyeol’s hard cock, and it makes Chanyeol squeal desperately, oversensitive. Everything heightened. He doesn’t have anything left in him to give. He can’t come anymore. He can’t possibly come again. 

Jongin pulls out roughly, grinds their cocks together messily, and it makes Chanyeol grunt. He doesn’t have time to rest, recuperate, because Jongin is turning him over, throwing his body up the bed, pulling him back by the hips. He mounts Chanyeol in one smooth thrust, makes Chanyeol’s back arch up. 

“Down,” Jongin says, and his hands shove Chanyeol’s chest to the bed, ass in the air as Jongin fucks him furiously. “Fuck. That’s my baby. That’s my good boy.” 

Chanyeol cannot answer, doesn’t have a voice anymore, he doesn’t think. He is nothing but a hole, the place where Jongin puts his cock. There aren’t anymore thoughts. Just raw emotions, raw skin and nerves that shiver against open air. 

“Come for me,” Jongin says. 

“I _can’t_ ,” Chanyeol says, and Jongin twists his hand on Chanyeol’s cock, makes him cry, the tears falling down his face easily now. A terrible warmth floods his lower body, a hotter fire than he’s ever felt before. “I _can’t_ , I can’t anymore. Stop, stop, I’m going to—” 

“Go on,” Jongin says, and he stills his hips, furiously works his hand on Chanyeol’s cock. 

Chanyeol cannot possibly hold back, and it bursts forth, so hot that it fucking burns him up from the inside out. It sprays out of him, so humiliating that he can’t control the way his face goes red, his eyes hurting from all the tears. Jongin milks his cock through it until he is shivering, until Jongin holds him in a hug. 

He holds Chanyeol up, and Chanyeol comes back to himself slowly, so dazed now that he thinks he could pass out immediately. 

“Shh,” Jongin says. “No sleep yet.” Chanyeol hums a disappointed sound. “Nap after a shower.” 

He hauls Chanyeol up, makes Chanyeol laugh as they walk to the bathroom. Jongin holds him when his knees get weak, an arm around Jongin’s neck. Once the door is closed, Jongin takes off the collar, places it on the edge of the sink before kissing the hollow of Chanyeol’s throat once, twice, three times. 

He opens the door to the shower, gently places Chanyeol inside once the water comes up to temperature. Jongin cleans him, washes him, and then, Jongin begins to detach himself from Chanyeol’s embrace, warm and wet. 

“Where are you going?” Chanyeol asks. “A-Are you leaving?” 

“Just wanna go clean up,” Jongin smiles. “Change the sheets.” 

A little bit of panic rises in Chanyeol’s throat, so he launches himself forward into Jongin’s arms, an embrace that he hopes will last a lifetime. 

“Don’t go,” Chanyeol whispers. “Not yet.” 

Jongin buries his face into Chanyeol’s neck, kisses him. 

“Okay,” Jongin says. “In a minute, then.”  
  


♙

Jongin prepares dinner for the two of them, and Chanyeol is so tired that he can barely keep his eyes open now. He eats, barely registers the sumptuous taste of the meat, the butter, the salt. He chews, swallows, and his stomach is full. His heart too.

“I just had… one more surprise,” Jongin whispers, and they wash the dishes together, hands in soapy water. “But I wanted to check.” 

“Check what?” 

“Check your color,” Jongin says. “Red, yellow, or—” 

“Green,” Chanyeol answers, because he trusts Jongin implicitly. That’s why this works. That’s why he _needs_ this.

Jongin smiles. “I thought you’d say that.” He takes his arms out of the water, dries them off. “I know this is when you’re being pampered and everything, but would you mind finishing up with the dishes? Meet me upstairs when you’re done.” 

Chanyeol bites across his smile as he goes back to work cleaning the pans. 

“Yes, sir,” Chanyeol says. “Thank you, sir.” 

Jongin hugs Chanyeol from behind before he makes his retreat, and Chanyeol forces himself to take his time as he finishes up with the dishes. Jongin must be preparing something, something amazing. Something to challenge Chanyeol. Something to test him. He simmers as he lets his mind wander, as he lets himself dream up the most terrible, wonderful things he can manage. 

His hands shake as he walks up the stairs, and he takes a moment to compose himself as he holds the doorknob. He breathes in and out, prepares for whatever greets him on the other side of the door. 

But when he opens it, it is just Jongin, naked on the bed. No… No whips. No ropes. No toys. It is just him. And Chanyeol realizes that if everything else was for his own benefit, this… this is where it truly becomes about Jongin. His heart races as he steps forward, staring into Jongin’s eyes. There is heat between them, so much that his vision begins to wave. 

“Hi,” Jongin says, and the room is dark, only a single amber light painting Jongin warmly. “Come over.” 

Chanyeol goes slowly, feels nothing besides love as he crosses, kneels on the bed. He places his palms on his thighs, and he waits, waits for Jongin to give him the final order. 

“I want you to do something for me,” Jongin says, and he looks like sin itself, lying back against the pillows. He is truly beautiful, inside and out, and Chanyeol is lucky, so fucking lucky. 

“W-What?”

“I want you to fuck me now,” Jongin says, and he spreads his legs, pets along his hole. Chanyeol looks, sees the slickness shining in the low light. “I got myself all ready for you.” 

Chanyeol bites his lip as he tries to stem the tide of arousal that soaks him down to the bone. 

“Don’t you want to?” Jongin teases. “You haven’t gotten to. Not even once.” 

Chanyeol stays silent, knelt between Jongin’s legs. Jongin takes Chanyeol’s hands in his, places them on the soft parts of his thighs. 

“Fuck me,” Jongin says. “Come on.” He reaches up between Chanyeol’s legs, strokes his cock with two hands. “Put it in, baby. I want you to.” 

Chanyeol sweats as he stares down at the bounty of Jongin’s love, the ultimate wonder, the ultimate gift. If sex is about surrender, then his white flag is waving, because it is no longer about what he wants. It’s about what they both want. What they share in desire. 

He slicks his cock, puts the head against Jongin’s hole. 

“In,” Jongin whispers. “Come inside.” 

Chanyeol is powerless to this, and he shudders out a trembling breath as he pushes in, inside. He moans sharply, engulfed by the light, the heat of Jongin, and he collapses to him, crushing him to the bed. Chanyeol’s head is filled with dust, and he tries to wipe it away, rise to the top of his consciousness so he can give Jongin what he wants, what he desires. 

Jongin hitches his legs up towards his chest, and Chanyeol sinks even deeper into the wet warmth. Jongin makes a satisfied sound, and Chanyeol whimpers.

“Feel good, baby?” Jongin asks, and Chanyeol bites his lip as he nods, as he cautiously begins to move his hips. “You feel so good inside me. So good.” 

“ _P-Please_ ,” Chanyeol begs, but he doesn’t know for what. 

“Anything,” Jongin promises him. “Anything for you.” 

Chanyeol moans as Jongin kisses him, fingers in Chanyeol’s hair. He wraps his legs around Chanyeol’s waist, ankles crossed over the small of Chanyeol’s back. Chanyeol is surging with nervous, ecstatic energy, and he cannot work to a steady rhythm like this, not when he is so deep. He whines through the kiss, moaning into Jongin’s mouth. He is rewarded as Jongin moans brokenly, a volley between them, and Chanyeol hugs him close as he finds the beat, the rolling of his hips. 

Jongin lowers his feet to the bed, and Chanyeol gets up to his knees to fuck Jongin hard. Jongin moans again, and Chanyeol watches in awe as thrust after thrust ripples through his body. Chanyeol studies his reactions, but by now, he knows how to make Jongin come. He knows what to do. 

He trusts himself, trusts instinct. They belong to each other for a reason. He takes Jongin’s cock in his hand, slick with lube, and he strokes Jongin in time with each thrust. Noises spill from Jongin’s mouth, throat bared, back arched as he shakes, clenches around Chanyeol. Chanyeol beats on, a hand on Jongin’s hip, a hand on his cock, and when Jongin makes an aborted sound, Chanyeol stills, but it is too late. Jongin comes, comes hard, and it is nearing painful as he tightens around Chanyeol’s cock. Chanyeol bites his lip as he watches Jongin, the sight of him writhing there almost enough to tip him over the edge. 

When Jongin manages to catch his breath, he smiles up at Chanyeol. 

“Come inside me,” Jongin says softly. “Come inside me. Please.” 

“I… I don’t know if I… I don’t know if I can,” Chanyeol says, and by now, he is so drained that he thinks he might come dry. “Jongin, I—” 

“This is it,” Jongin says. “This is it, the last time, please, I just… I wanna feel you.” 

Chanyeol squeezes his eyes shut tight as Jongin pulls him down, crosses his ankles back across the small of Chanyeol’s back. Every part of him is torn open now. He is so raw and used. So vulnerable. 

“I love you,” Jongin whispers, and he kisses Chanyeol’s ear as he hangs onto him. “I love you, you’ve been so good.” 

Chanyeol’s hips stutter as the praise begins to do its job. Jongin squeezes him, and Chanyeol feels suffocated in the most wonderful way. He fucks Jongin, fucks him, fucks him until he can’t anymore, until he is dying, until he is _sure_ that he is dying. 

The final time, he is gasping for his next breath, the warmth of Jongin’s body overwhelmingly good. If he died, he wouldn’t care. He is wrapped in Jongin. Wrapped in love. He has never been more fulfilled. Never been more at peace. 

He collapses onto Jongin, the sweat making them stick together. Jongin’s arms circle around his neck, Jongin kisses him, kisses away the last of his moans. 

“I love you,” Jongin whispers. “I love you so much, baby. I’ve never… I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you.” 

“I love you,” Chanyeol says, and his eyes brim, wet but happy. “I love you, I’m—” 

“Shh,” Jongin says. “It’s okay. It’s okay. I got you.”  
  


♙

When the collar is finally unlocked, pulled from around his neck, Chanyeol knows he shouldn’t cry, but strangely, the sight of the collar on the night table is enough to make him burst. Tears leak down his face stupidly as Jongin turns, putting it down with some reverence in his movements.

Jongin’s brows knit as he turns back to face Chanyeol. 

“Baby…” 

“I… I still belong to you, right?” 

“Chanyeol,” Jongin laughs softly, “come here.” 

Chanyeol folds into the embrace, and Jongin brings them both to the cushion of the bed, lying next to each other. Chanyeol shudders, warm in Jongin’s arms, and he shuts his eyes, tears slow now. 

“Shh, it’s okay,” Jongin says, and his voice is velvet and silk. “I’m still here. I still got you.” 

“I know,” Chanyeol says. “I know, I’m sorry.” 

“Shh. No apologies. What can I get you?” Jongin asks. 

“Nothing,” Chanyeol cries, and he clings weakly to Jongin’s body. “Nothing, just… just stay right here.” 

“Yes,” Jongin says, and his hand rubs circles into Chanyeol’s back, luxurious and tender. “Love you, baby. Love you so much.” He kisses Chanyeol’s forehead. “Love you _so_ much. Never loved anybody like I love you. Only you, baby. Only you.” 

Chanyeol hums out another little happy moan, voice cracking, and he buries his face into Jongin’s chest. They lie there for an eternity. He has never felt more wrung dry. He has never been more exhausted in his entire life. In the morning, they’ll have to return to real life, but they barely slept, barely ate, just indulged in each other for two whole days. Chanyeol smiles to himself, wondering how he got so lucky. The tears on his face are long dry, and he’s beginning to feel the after-effects of so much physical exertion. He is achy all over, and God, he’s not gonna shit right for a week. 

The thought makes him giggle, and Jongin squeezes him tight, an answering laugh rumbling out in his chest. 

“Okay?” Jongin checks. “Feeling good now?” 

“Yes,” Chanyeol sighs. “Best birthday weekend ever.”

“Ah. I do what I can,” Jongin says, and he presses a kiss to Chanyeol’s sweaty forehead, brushing the hair out of his eyes. “You wanna go take another shower before bed? We gotta be out tomorrow morning by nine.” Chanyeol groans. “I’ll wash you.” 

“Mm,” Chanyeol moans. “Yes. Wash me. Get me clean.” Jongin laughs, and Chanyeol looks up at him. “What? What’s so funny?” 

“Nothing, I’m just…,” and he kisses Chanyeol on the nose, “not used to hearing you order me around like that.” 

Chanyeol smiles wryly at him. “Now you’ve got a little taste of how it could _really_ be, and you don’t wanna go back.” Chanyeol lies back against the bed, against the pillow of Jongin’s arm again. “I knew it. I just _knew_ I’d turn you into a dom.” 

“Enough,” Jongin laughs, and he smacks himself in the forehead. “God, I didn’t even break out the crop. I’ll never be a real dom.” 

Chanyeol flops himself onto Jongin’s stomach, and Jongin lets out a labored _oof_. 

“Maybe just on special occasions?” Chanyeol asks, and he bats his lashes as he rests his chin on his hands, piled on Jongin’s chest. “For when I’m really good? Birthdays and holidays?” 

Jongin rolls his eyes before he kisses Chanyeol hard. 

“Yeah,” Jongin says. “Yeah, that sounds good.” 

Jongin pulls him into another kiss, honest and lovely. 

“But… and be honest,” Chanyeol says, and he bites his lip nervously. “If you didn’t like it, if it wasn’t good—” 

“It’s you,” Jongin says, and he brushes the back of his knuckles along Chanyeol’s cheekbone. “It’s always good.” 

The kiss they share then, the kisses that they share for the rest of the evening and the rest of their life…, they are kisses that say _Monday will never come._

**Author's Note:**

> everyone always accuses my pwp of being too mushy and not enough sex, and,,,,, I wanted to write something gross! i feel like it still got mushy towards the end, but the mushy parts are what make sex so good imo! esp in things where you're like, giving up control anyway. trust is so important ,,,, Ah. i dont know. just wanted to prove to myself that i CAn write porn,,,, do not know if i have accomplished that or not but i have certainly written a lot of....something. lkasjdkj 
> 
> hope u enjoyed. this will be my last piece of 2019 and im,,,, Proud of it? weirdly??? anyway,,,, i hope u liked it. thank you for reading. hope you are enjoying the season!!! 
> 
> [my twitter](https://twitter.com/okamiwind) | [my curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/okamiwind)


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